Abbie B., age 23, Kansas

P brought letters, papers—and a pack of seeds from the ranch. They talk of making it a post office. I wish they would. Then we would get the mail regularly. Now who ever goes to W takes letters along and brings back mail for the settlers.  The sun is setting, and the sky is gorgeous. Yester­day I went down to Lanes— acrost the draw—or branch, which was so high I had to wade. Always a trouble to put on shoes and stockings again. Today I baked and finished reading Leena Rivers. Am now reading Martin Chizzlewit.

One of the boys gave me a bunch of buffalo sinews. They use them for thread, and to fasten arrow heads to arrows. P showed me some bushes—called arrow wood, that the Indians make their arrows from.

Mr. Rose gave me some seed of “pie mellon.”  He said P should “ask permission of the neighbors to plant ig as it grew so fast it would soon be over all creation.”

Three weeks since we moved, and in that time there has been but one woman here.  No church, no nothing – plenty of time to “comune with nature, and nature’s God.”

Soon after I came, while I was with Mrs. North – a min­ister came from W to go on a buffalo hunt. He preached Sunday, we went to hear him at Springers. Monday he went hunting with the boys. I saw a deer leaping thru the grass —over toward the garden.

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