Abbie B., age 22, Kansas


Last night in the cabin. Up early. Breakfast of mush, molasses, sweet potato and coffee. I bid the cabin good bye, and went to the dug out to pack. Met Mr. Rose in a big waggon. He wanted me to go home with him, but I could not— I had to pack. I made a big fire, and went to work. So many things to pack I scarcely knew where to begin; what to take and what to leave—Dried buffalo meat, turkey fans, wolf and coyota pelts ct. I put on enough petticoats to make me look like a barrel, but it was so cold, I needed them.

Philip had said if I left any clothing I should “give it to the Igmires they have children.” There were many things I did not pack, and later he can give them away.

When done packing, I made a can of chocolate, and ate some ginger snaps. There I sat by the fire, and went over the days I had spent in the dugout. I never got to Roses  after we left the cabin, The slow way of baking took so much time, then reading and writing—trying to make Philip comfortable, and having the ague so often filled up my days. Trying days when Philip was sick. Exciting days when brother H, and cousin Tim came, and we went on a buffalo hunt. Dreary days when it stormed. Light hearted days when I could go to the garden and plant, or bring up good fresh things to cook, and now a sad day of leaving. I dont want to leave brother here— he is not well, and has only half promised to go East for the winter.

Finaly I looked at the little home, the well, the garden and the surroundings, then started on my long walk to Lanes. The snow was melting, and my feet got wet. We were both in­vited for dinner, to help eat the turkey Philip had shot, and we were both late getting there.

*(kansasmemory.org, Kansas State Historical Society, copy and reuse restrictions apply)