St. Landry democrat., 1885-09-12

try?
Who can recount the many incidents
over which men laugh or women weep,
that go to make up the weeks and
months of such a journey?
Who can convey to the minds of those
who have never seen them, true pict.
ure of the prairies
That seem bounded,
Like the waters of the ocean,
Only by the purple sunset
And the gray clouds that in patches
Fleck the sky that hangs low over?
Who shall picture the camp at night
upon the open plains-in the rocky pass
by the river side-within some deep
defile? Who tell again the stories that
were told; who sing the songs that were
sung by the campfire, or along the
weary, dusty road?
Did those who blazed the way across
the continent mark the route for those
who followed them?
Those who came after counted the
graves by the roadside.
Did these give names to the streams
which they crossed?
Others, camping by the streams,
drinking of their waters, talked of the
memories WHICH LuOs6 udluSS CHIIou W
mind.
They who never made the journey
can not describe it; those who have,
alone could understand it if written;
and they-they do not need to read it.
What others saw who crossed the
plains in 1850 by wagon train. they saw
who made up the little company in
which was Martha Parsons, with her
two girls and Erastus Hemingway.
What others suffered of loneliness and
hardship they suffered. They enjoyed
all that Others enjoyed of the beauties
of nature and of the companionship of
those with whom they travelled toward
the land of golden promise.
They forded the same streams, trav'
eled for days and weeks and months
across the same prairies, along the
same beaten track, that at times seemed
endless; they climbed the same mount
aims; they greeted with glad cries and
thankful hearts the first evidence of the
near approach of their journeys end,
Just as the members of every other COM
pany that had preceded them had done;
Just as those of every other company
that came after them did do; and when
they had broken camp for the last time;
had made their last days journey; they
received at its end the same hearty, I'M
band and father that every other hus-
band and father, long separated and
anxious for the presence of his loved
ones, gave them when their journey
was ended and he folded them once
more within his arms.
When John Parsons first clasped his
wife and little ones to his breast after
their long separation, it was in front of
the shanty which he had promised
should be ready for them in front of
the land which he had pre-empted.
The shanty, however, was not what
would be called such in the heavy-tim-
bered country of the Middle West, but
was of redwood boards nailed to a
frame of studding, and the cracks bat
tened with narrow strips. The boards
being sixteen feet in length and nailed
on perpendicularly gave abundant room
for several beds, and for the storage OF
any article of clothing or of household
use not in daily demand.
Instead of being lathed and plastered
the walls, both above and below, were
covered with heavy muslin neatly and
securely tackled on. The ceiling was
covered with muslin, but the floors were
of boards, and partition of boards,
unplaned but neatly fitted together, di-
vided the lower room into two apart
ments. It was neither a very grand
nor very costly house, but its builder
and owner had taken no small pleasure
in thinking that it was better, and
more stylish looking, than the log
house his family were leaving "back in
the States. "
He had Whitewashed the outside care.
fully, and had built a porch over the
front door, doing everything himself
and lingering long over the nicer jobs;
thinking of how it would add to the
pleasure and comfort of the wife who
was undergoing the tedious journey
across the plains in order to be again
with him.
'sShe's worthy of palace, = he had
said to himself over and over again,
g an I'm just goin' to make this here
shanty as comfortable an as conven-
lent as contriyin' an fxin' kin do it. !"
And every evening, after cooking and
eating his supper of bacon and beans,
with the addition of z slap jacks, if
he was not too tired or too Indifferent
to cook them, he would light his pipe
and sit in The front door for hours,
looking out along the track by which
he knew they must come, and wonder
where they were at that hour; if they
were travelling late, as they sometimes
must in search of water for their teams;
if all were well; if they were in danger
from the Indians; if the horses with
which they started were holding out
well and q Thousand other similar