RFB To the Forks of the Platte

To the Forks of the Platte. 11th August.

Precisely at 1:35 in the morning we awoke, as we came to a halt at Cotton Wood Station. Cramped with a four days’ and four nights’ ride in the narrow van, we entered the foul tenement, threw ourselves upon the mattresses, averaging three to each, and ten in a small room, every door, window, and cranny being shut—after the fashion of these Western folks, who make up for a day in the open air by perspiring through the night in unventilated log huts—and, despite mosquitoes, slept.

The Kickapoos - 1858

Kennekuk derives its name from a chief of the Kickapoos, in whose reservation we now are. This tribe, in the days of the Baron la Hontan (1689), a great traveler, but “aiblins,” as Sir Walter Scott said of his grandmither, “a prodigious story-teller,” then lived on the Riviére des Puants, or Fox River, upon the brink of a little lake supposed to be the Winnebago, near the Sakis (Osaki, Sawkis, Sauks, or Sacs),[See The Iowas, and Sacs and Fox] and the Pouteoustamies (Potawotomies).

Valley Home

Location estimated from Burton's description. Valley Home, a whitewashed shanty. At Small Branch on Wolf River, 12 miles from Cold Spring, is a fiumara on the north of the road, with water, wood, and grass. Here the road from Fort Atchinson falls in. 

RFB Bleeding Kansas - August 7th

Landing in Bleeding Kansas—she still bleeds [1] —we fell at once into “Emigration Road,” a great thoroughfare, broad and well worn as a European turnpike or a Roman military route, and undoubtedly the best and the longest natural highway in the world. For five miles the line bisected a bottom formed by a bend in the river, with about a mile’s diameter at the neck. The scene was of a luxuriant vegetation.

RFB Adieu to St. Jo

But the wagon still stands at the door. We ought to start at 8 30 A.M.; we are detained an hour while last words are said, and adieu—a long adieu—is bidden to joke and julep, to ice and idleness. Our “plunder” is clapped on with little ceremony; a hat-case falls open—it was not mine, gentle reader—collars and other small gear cumber the ground, and the owner addresses to the clumsy-handed driver the universal G— d—, which in these lands changes from its expletive or chrysalis form to an adjectival development.

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