Abbie B., age 22, Kansas

Last Saturday I walked way past Lanes, down to Marklies, Mr. M – had told Philip he would be away over Sunday, and his wife was so timid, so P suggested I go and spend the night with her. She was so glad to see me, she could talk of nothing else for a while.

They are only half a mile from the trail. Sunday a. m. we saw coming over the divide a great heard of cattle and some hours later another heard. They crossed the river and moved on toward Whichita.

While we were eating dinner, we heard a noise, and some two dozen oxen had come over the river and were in her garden— We yelled—and with a broom tried to drive them away — Then they went to a corn patch, and it was not safe to leave the house—as they get cross— and their immense horns are wicked looking. Mr. Rose told me he had seen steers whos hornes were five and six feet from tip to tip. He also said they were driven north— butchered, and the meat packed in their own hornes—and shiped to Chicago, Such yams I hear a plenty.  Well it was 4 p. m when some men came riding a crost the river for the cattle, and in that time they had nearly destroyed two acres of corn.

I had promised to go to the grove where we had the picnic, and help organize a bible class, but it was so late before it was safe for me to leave, that I went direct home. J. R had been sick. Jake had been down and took him up with him— I have not done much to day.

Looks like a heavy storm was coming.

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