The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1891-06-17
This Picture and That.

Editor of Waterman while the boomers
of the West are writing of the green or
golden fields that dot the land, of the orch
ards fragrant with bloom or ripened fruit,
of the luxuriant pastures where innumer-
able herds fatten on the verdure, or of the
thousands of perennial fountains gushing in
limpid streams from the hll-sides to wend
their way through verdant valleys and along
smiling prairies to join the great rivers, OF
realms where the rude blasts of winter
rarely come, where long, genial glowing
summers abound and where labor is sure to
meet a liberal reward, etc, etc, they should
not fail to show the other phase of the case;
but they almost invariably fail to do this.
They may state some facts, but they sup
press some of them.
Now here is picture painted in other
colors which some New Englanders having
the western emigration craze might do well
to study a little. The Kansas City Star OF
late date says: Yesterday, in the middle
of the street, was a long prairie schooner
drawn by two lean Indian ponies, and on
the drivers seat holding knotted clothes
lines for reins was woman dressed in
faded calico, with face shaded by COARSE
wide-brimmed straw hat The woman in
| quired of a policeman the way to the police
headquarters, and there told Captain Moran
a strange story OF deStitution Nine years
ago John Gibson, his young wife and little
| three-year-old daughter, left their home in
New England for the South. They went to
Benton county, Arkansas, and homesteaded
a claim four miles from Nebo. The ground
produced the narrowest kind of razor back
| hogs in the state made famous for this kind
of creation, but produced little else. When
| April came last year John Gibson laid down
on his death-bed in the rude little place
called home. The miasma had been too
| much for him. and consumption had put its
stamp upon him. On the night of nearly
the last day of the month he called his wife
to his side. Work with the hoe and behind
the pillow had given the woman stronger
arms than she had when she left her city
home. 1t gave her, too, a sun-burned face,
but it did not dull the expression of keen,
brown eye. To add to the very burden of
existence, two little girls and baby boy
not a year old had been added to the family
since their first migration. The dying man
took his wfe's hand and gave her, with his
blessing, the care of the family and the few
acres of almost barren land which he had
struggled over for nine years. Then to the
children he gave his horses-two Indian
ponies-not of much value, but which repre-
scented the result of many days of sweat and
toll For year Lydia Gibson, the widow,
cared for her children and the place. Then,
on the anniversary of her husbands death,
she gave up the struggle for existence there.
She sold what little goods she had under
the home roof and determined to come to
her brother, living six miles from St.
Joseph, in this state. She hitched the two
ponies-the children's pOnies-to the long
wagon, patched the widowed canvas cover
and stretched it over the ribs. There
were many days to be spent on the road, so
she put in all the bedding the little house
contained. Then, with the money raised
by the sale of the few household goods, she
bought some flour and sides of salt meat
The cellar was emptied of everything eat
able and the house door was nailed close.
The four fat little bacon-consumers were
put under the canvas beside their mother
and the horses heads turned away from a
lonesome grave under the pines. The
nights were cold and there were many rainy
days, but the resolute little woman jour
neyed on. Missouri roads are not the best
in the world, and when the wagon has no
springs and the horses must depend on the
grass to be had from grazing along the road
side, and rain had made deep mud-holes,
; progress must of necessity be slow.
could have sold the ponies, she said, and
, bought railroad ticket, but he gave them
to the children and asked me to keer
them Tuesday night the little family had
no supper. The provisions had given out
for the rain had made much delay. The
, night was passed in the road south of West
port near some farm-houses. Wednesday
morning the women from the farm-houses
l interested themselves in the wanderers
+ gave them some food and directed them Il
police headquarters in this city. Mrs. Glib
son has asked her way mile by mile, ant
3 has been told the road from here to st
5 Joseph by way of Kansas City, Kansas an,
, Leavenworth, but it will take her four day
to reach her brother. The woman did no
want much, only some bacon and fiour-fol
she had a skillet and knew how to cook
These she was given, and she began again
the long ride"
r This is not an isolated case, by any means
The writer once raised seventy-five dollar
!, in few minutes, for sick and destitute
/ family of strangers who were returning
East, in western city by direct persona
appeal TO a group of prominent bushes
t men. The boundless West is verify thu
mighty seat of empire" the source from
], which is destined to flow wealth almost be
yond calculation. 1t has its favored local
ities and it is land where men have as gen
erous hearts as anywhere on earth. Blu
r the West is also the land of the terrible
blizzard and deadly tornado, of parchinJ
l drouth, and, at times, superabundant rains
p 1t is the home of the chinch-bug and tn
grasshopper, and many other hindrances t.
5 the agriculturst that the eastern farme
= knows little of. These causes have broker
up many good farmers that would have sue
D ceeded well elsewhere.
U In view of these facts, New England boy
that are making a comfortable start shout,
S study the situation carefully before emigrat
= ing to the West at present. Yours truly,
DANIEL PERRY.
i Maysvile, Mo-, June 6, 1891.