Far away in this strange land

By the first of May 1855, a constant stream of emigrants were moving into Kansas Territory. Less than 500 miles away, a steamboat named the "Hartford" was moving slowly up the Mississippi towards St. Louis. The flat-bottomed, sternwheeler of 144 tons, sat low in the water, carrying "100 passengers, their personal belongings, 100 tons of freight and high hopes." The emigrants were members of the Cincinnati and Kansas Land Company whose avowed purpose was "not indeed to plant a colony of Abolitionists, but to increase their fortunes" by settling in Kansas. They carried their own lumber with which they intended to erect their own houses, knowing that timber was scarce in the territory.

Meanwhile, other elements of the New England Emigrant Company were crowded into quarters around Kansas City awaiting summons from various advance parties sent out into the territories to seek townsites. Among these emigrants were the families of Isaac Goodnow, Joseph Denison, and Charles Lovejoy. Despairing of the filth and disease in these quarters, Mrs. Julia Lovejoy recalled that "for some six weeks, hundreds were almost constantly thronging the [American Hotel] bringing various diseases with them, and seldom [did] a boat load [arrive at the levy] without more or less sick, until the very air in the different rooms seemed impregnated with disease and death. Within a few feet of our own room lay, at one time, four men sick with lung fever. A little farther on, in the passage that led to our room, ...lay two dead bodies. In another room lay our beloved Brother Denison, formerly of the New England Conference, sick with fever for weeks; and many from different boarding places found a grave in Kansas City. We left the hotel and went to a private house to board, when our eldest daughter was seized with pneumonia, which had been very fatal in the community, and our younger became very ill, whilst [I] too was violently seized and [I] feared [all three of us] would die..."

Near Lawrence, the Lovejoys' youngest daughter, Edith, "was borne in the arms of an agonizing father from a baggage wagon, into a cabin by the wayside...and in a few hours of unconsciousness to her, her spirit went to God..." Later, according to Mrs. Lovejoy, "we laid the precious casket in which it was once enshrined away in a cold, damp grave..." She confessed that it was exceedingly difficult to "tear ourselves from the grave" and journey on.

In a May 6th letter to Augusta, James wrote of encountering Julia Lovejoy near Lawrence:

It has seemed a long time since I said a word to you through my pen. But I guess never a day passes but my imagination brings your lifelike form into my presence and causes me almost to forget the very great distance that continues to separate us. I am glad that Heaven has so constituted us that, although we may be absent in body, we may be enjoying each others presence -- I was about to say "in spirit" (or would such an idea push me off in the class of spiritualists?). At any rate, at one and the same moment we can hold communion with the same good Being, enjoy the same blessed spirits influence, and with the imagination, can invoke at our bidding each other's presence, live over many happy hours of the past, and promise ourselves many happy hours for the future, if not on earth. "Far from this world of grief and sin, with God eternally shut in." [1] In your next letter, I wish you would tell me how many letters I am behind. I would be glad if possible to pay my debts in this respect -- at least in number of letters if not in value. I try to excuse myself now not only from the multiplicity of cares brought on by a very responsible circuit, but from the fact that [your brother] James will give all the news, thus rendering my scribbling superfluous.

[Excepting] a class of about a dozen Indians and Abraham Still's family, we have already to report to the next quarterly meeting a membership of 125 persons and it will probably reach 175 or two hundred before the conference year closes. It keeps me very busy to visit from cabin to cabin and become acquainted with all, to organize them into classes, read and pray with them, and try to give a word of encouragement to the different ones so far away in this strange land. I find some families that have long tales of suffering and privation to relate and, perhaps withal, have been called upon to leave in their emigrant journey some bright jewel of their number far away upon the side of some prairie bluff where the stranger will continue to tread over the grave until the resurrection. How quickly the eye suffuses with tears to make even the most distant allusion to the dear little sufferer. And how every minute they can give all the details of its last hours of suffering.

Yesterday, when coming from [Lawrence], I called at the house of a Presbyterian lady -- Mrs. Savage [2] -- and who should I find there but the family of a Methodist preacher named Lovejoy. [Mr. Charles Lovejoy] had come into the territory to live and labor for souls -- but oh, they were deeply stricken. The grim monster [of death] had been there and, just one hour before I came, had snatched away a most lovely little daughter of six years and taken it to join the company that no man can number. She was the idol of the family, the youngest of a family of three children. But the best of care, the most earnest solicitude and ardent desires, could not retain her. I was glad to find the parents knew of the refuge to which they could flee in this sad hour of trial. I am afraid that a great deal of sickness will be caused by the very warm, dry weather, the crowded state of the boats, and the great detention all along owing to the very low stages of water. Already have appeared some symptoms of the cholera -- a few cases but, as yet, not many deaths.

Today, Bluejacket, [3] one of the first Indians of the Shawnee Nation and who keeps the best Indian entertainment for travelers in the nation, was buried. He died yesterday of consumption.

I have not been to [my brother] Henry's in nearly two weeks. They were quite well when I left. Emma is quite strong and healthy. Velma does not get along so well as I might wish. She is troubled and has been ever since leaving home at times with the diarrhea. They are getting their cabin more comfortable and I think are beginning to like their new home first rate. I found [your brother] James there when I returned last, but [he was] quite undecided what to do. He thought some of going to work out by the month as laborers get from $20 to $25 per month. I told him I should think it would be altogether for his advantage to take a claim and preempt, but he somehow or other seemed to think this would fasten him to [the land] should he want to go [back home].

[Your brother James] cannot bear the idea of staying away from his home so long as he contemplated when he left. He, however, concluded to stay and I helped him to get the frame on the ground for his cabin. He intends to thatch it with hay and cover [it] with sod, I believe, until after he gets his corn planted. I told him I would try to sell my claim on the Wakarusa and take one beside him, but no buyer has come yet and I hardly know what to do. I dislike to abandon this [property] as claims not so good as mine about here have sold for one and two hundred dollars. Besides, I would like to own a farm here as it will be very valuable in a few years. I have just written to [my brother] Ossy and shall put the letter in the mail with this. [I have asked him to] take a claim by the side of [your brother] James. It would make him so much more steady company as I am obliged to be away so much.

I have been to work making a fence around a small lot but cannot finish until I make another round of the circuit. [It's in this lot] where I hope to deposit some of your garden seeds. I feel greatly indebted to you for them.

I notice in the New York Independent that A. Knapp of Hatfield has asked for a dismissal. Do you know why? I was sorry that Mr. Smyth of the [Owego] Times allowed himself to stoop to copying some of the slander against Senator Goodwin of New York Senate, accusing him of plagiarism, when the fault was in the printer and not in the Honorable Senator, having neglected to insert his quotations. Goodwin was a Methodist preacher and I believe a good man. And I hope when Smyth finds out his mistake, he will be as ready to do him justice.

We are intending, if possible, to build a church at Lawrence and one at Topeka this summer. They have been quarreling about claims in Lawrence, especially those covering the town site which will operate much against the city. Owing to this, I lost my lot given me by the Emigrant Aid Company as they have been thrown nearly out of all interests in the town when, at one time, they supposed they owned the whole. I have paid for the Kansas Tribune and ordered it sent to your father for a year. Does it come? Please send Owego papers as often as convenient. Good Bye for the present. Ever your own, -- James.

On Sunday, May 13, 1855, the "Hartford" and her Cincinnati passengers arrived in Lawrence. Two days later, while the Hartford was still moored at Lawrence, James began yet another letter to Augusta:

I have just been taking a look at your daguerreotype to see whether this long dry spell of weather did not affect you as it does us. I.E., bring over you a feeling of languor. But no. Its the same fresh pleasant look as ever. We are having such a spell of weather here as many of the oldest settlers (Shawnees) have never known before. The rainy season seems to be all passing over without scarce any rain as yet and the consequence is that it is making all the squatters very backward about their work. They cannot very well break the hard, dry prairie sod until there is the sound of an abundance of rain. There has been no rain to speak of since I have been in the territory which causes many of the bluffs to present a burnt brown appearance and throws a sort of gloom over the brightening prospects of many. I am sorry as its tendency will be so very bad upon the settlement of the territory. It will cause haggard want with its unwelcome visage to stare so many in the face that never knew of suffering until they came here. So far as I can learn, the draught is quite general throughout the west although not so great as here. [4] We can but believe that although the prospect appears so very dubious, that if we have great confidence in the promise, that "Seed time and harvest, summer and winter, day and night, shall continue until the end of all things." [5]

Your very welcome epistle of April 16th I took from the [post] office last Friday morning with one also for [your brother] James. Did I tell you it would be best to direct his letters to Topeka? I think he would be more likely to get them sooner if sent [there rather than] to my care at Lawrence as the mail comes regularly once a week.

I left [my brother] Henry last Thursday night. The children appeared better, I thought. Velma's fingers get well slowly which makes her somewhat irritable at times. I don't believe Emma ever had better health. How much she likes to wander out upon the prairie and gather her little basket full of flowers. And [she] would [go] much oftener than she does but her people are afraid of snakes. Posies and snakes are not rare here although the latter much more so than the former. The snakes are nearly all such as snakes. I have seen but one little garter snake in all my travels. Have seen and assisted in killing four of an average length of five feet. Killed also one rattlesnake two years old. [Your brother] James has killed two rattlesnakes and has their rattles, but they are not near as numerous as one would suppose. In these warm days of spring, we can see them some distance on the prairie where it has been more recently burnt. But as to posies, they are certainly more numerous and variegated that I supposed. I knew the prairie abounded with them but I supposed -- until close examination has taught me differently -- that there was a much greater sameness. The exceeding dry weather has greatly affected them, making them dwarfish.

I was very glad to hear through your letter that David Taylor, [my brother Samuel's Father-in-Law], had bought the old homestead and that [my brother] Sammy was moving there. I had become quite uneasy about mother, thinking where she would go that would seem like home to her. Now she can stay right in her own little bedroom, sweep over the same floors, sit by the same windows, visit the same old neighbors, weed in the same garden, and -- I think -- can pass away the time quite pleasantly. I would like much, very much to see her. I wonder if she received a letter I sent to her by way of Candor, [New York,] in my [brother-in-law] Rev. Asa Brooks' care. I have received but one letter from Brother Brooks and answered that soon after.

An 1855 map of Tioga County NY showing the location of "the old homestead" of Rev. John Griffing. Double click on the map to enlarge it. The Griffing home is designated with "S. Griffin" next to it (Samuel Griffing) just southwest of the large "A" at left center. The property assigned to "D. Taylor" immediately adjacent belonged to David Taylor, Samuel's father-in-law, & was probably the home built by Henry Griffing a few years before relocating to Kansas Territory. The next nearest property belonged to Osee Hall. These homes are all located on "Thorn Hollow Road", undoubtedly named after the Thorn families shown residing further to the northwest. Further to the southeast, between this area and the Village of Owego was Goodrich Settlement where Augusta Goodrich's parents resided.

Unless there should be a change in the weather before long, I would not urge anyone to come out this spring now. Those who came in last on the boats on the Missouri [river] suffered much by detention. Some [dying from cholera] were buried along the shore and I understand that there are many cases of sickness in some of the border towns among the emigrants.

If we could only receive some rain, it will make a great change. [Rain] would open navigation and enable the squatters to get in something of a crop -- but it appears dubious. I have put in very few of my garden seeds as yet -- am waiting for rain. You spoke of a rag carpet. That's one of the very best investments here. Much better than any other kind of carpet on these rough floors. [Henry's wife,] Nancy did not bring hers, but would find it very convenient now with her little babies. They have just dug a well near the door and found excellent water. They dug about ten feet. I stayed with James overnight in his sod cabin. We slept finely. He cooked me quite a fine breakfast next morning. He has purchased a yoke of oxen and intends to plant ten acres if there comes any rain.

This Thursday [May 17], all the squatters for miles about Topeka [plan to] meet and have a social gathering in the shape of a dinner prepared from articles brought in by everyone. The object is to enable all to become acquainted with each other. [6] James and Henry think of both going with Nancy and the children. Their style of conveyance will probably be on an ox sled with seats fixed to accommodate. And if some of the neighbors who have as yet no means of conveyance wish to go, they will probably hitch on both yoke and take a load. I was strongly urged to be there but could not, which I much regretted.

We are trying to build a church at Topeka and Lawrence and have near five hundred dollars subscribed at each place. Soon as we can double this, we shall push matters along. Our Quarterly Meeting takes place the last Saturday and Sunday in the month and I have much to do preceding it. I have quite a bad cough and was quite unwell otherwise yesterday, but I am better today.

Hark! I heard it thunder just now and, on looking out, I see a dark cloud hanging in the west. Welcome, oh welcome ye showers. How much ye elate the almost desponding and will cease drooping nature to cheer up again and assume her natural appearance.

My paper is becoming minus fast so I found this small additional piece and will fill it out so that you may have three letters enclosed in one envelope. I want to get about even with you if I can. By all means, Augusta, if you think that an eastern trip and eastern medical skill will be conducive to health, Providence favoring, I think I should try it. Besides, it will give you a good opportunity to again visit your friends east before making the west your home. Besides, I hardly think it advisable for me to go east this fall beyond Owego as I shall be too late for commencement [at Wesleyan University] and economy, as I am circumstanced, would not justify me in doing it at present. If I should have any money to spare for anything, I can make an outlay here to so much better advantage.

You spoke of your valuables. I am confident that all will come very handy in housekeeping and none that you desire to bring shall be left behind. Henry and Nancy are getting quite pleased with their new house and, if there only comes rain so that they can raise a crop this year, it will be a great favor. The shower that I spoke of is now passing over in that direction. I hope for the best. Their nearest neighbor, Mr. [Timothy] Fessenden [7], is very little farther off than Mr. [Ossy] Hall was [on Catlin Hill]. He is a kind, good neighbor from Rhode Island. The family are Episcopalian.

The society about Topeka is mostly of the very best kind. Our [Methodist] Class numbers 23 members there at present. They are nearly all eastern people but my circuit is such that I cannot hold meetings there oftener than once in four weeks. A Sabbath School is already organized and a prayer and class meeting is kept up weekly. Besides, a good local brother holds meetings there quite often, and other persuasions occasionally, but our denomination are largely in the majority at present. People keep coming and coming and coming.

Your papers have all come. More would be quite welcome. Since our new mail regulations, I get my papers quite regularly. I take Zion's Herald, published at Boston, and the Northern Advocate and Western, published at Cincinnati. I want the Sunday School & Missionary Advocates with the National Magazine and they will afford me much company with what transient papers I get occasionally. A good brother at Lawrence favors me with the New York Independence, which I think among the best of religious papers. Does the Kansas Tribune come regularly to your father? I paid for it and ordered it sent on weekly. Tell [your brother] James to write you all about the [May 17] social gathering [in Topeka] and ask him if Miss Fessenden went. [That is,] if you can do it without his suspecting I said anything about it.

What will [we] all do unless we get a large crop? Tell the folks there to put in an extra crop so that we here may know where to go in case of need. Should you go East, I wish you would remember me to any inquiring and tell the Connecticut people that their representatives here who are settled like the country much and could not be hired to migrate back again to the old rocks and bleak, barren soil of the "old blue state." Tell all but the chicken-hearted that Kansas is to be the "Eden of the Earth."

I was glad to hear you say you would try and like it West. I do believe when we have our usual weather, the climate will be quite conducive to health -- more especially in the fall and winter. Without I can get leave of absence, I shall be obliged to abbreviate my visit east as much as possible. I will inform you when I start and when you may probably look for me as our Conference meets -- I think -- the 11th of October. It will make me home later than I was calculating. I presume, however, that by the last of September, I shall leave here. But I must close. Should you see [my brother] Sammy, please tell him to take good care of a hand trunk I left locked in my chamber at home. I would wish it undisturbed as it contains many choice papers and letters that I value highly. I forgot to speak of it in my letter to him.

P.S. May 29 [1855]. Since I wrote the above, we have had some fine showers and every squatter that can command a plow is busy breaking [sod]. Have not seen James and Henry but expect to on Sabbath morning. I start today on my circuit. [Your] letter of April 30th has come. All well.

It is a rainy evening and those of us at home are very quiet. And as I soon expect a letter from yourself, will according to old habit commence an answer.

[My sister] Mary did not come home after school on account of the rain, but went down to Aunt Lucy Fiddis' who lives on Bell Street -- a street opening out on Paige and parallel with Main. I think, according to all letters, that the mail only leaves Lawrence on Mondays and often letters reach here the following Friday. I shall expect one Friday or Saturday at the latest. This is Wednesday.

Last Friday afternoon, Ma, [my sister] Sarah and myself went over to attend Mrs. [Isabel] McBeth's funeral. [My brother] Ralph walked over and I drove as usual. Going over the horse jumped some at some [railroad] cars close by the street on the switch road that runs across the road here by the corner, but I did not mind as he frequently does so. When we came back, Ma wanted to get out [of the wagon] before we got to that place as she is afraid when he jumps. I stopped for her to get out and started on but when the horse came just opposite the cars, he sprang with all his might and jumped and ran away with us. We both tried to hold him but could not check him in the least. I never saw a horse run so. I hoped we could keep him in the road until we got home thinking he would stop there -- but he jumped so fast I expected we should both be killed. While coming around the curve just this side of the sand bank, one side of the wagon was off the road and lower down so that we tipped over close by a large stump and it is wonderful that we were not crushed to death. We were going so rapidly I was almost out of breath and knew we were going over, but do not know when I hit the ground. Sarah went [over] first and I expected I [landed] on her. But she was on one side of the stump and I on the other. I sprang up, found I could walk, and ran to her and tried to lift her. She was screaming and crying. Herman Goodrich and a dozen others were there in a moment -- they seeing it all -- but could not come quick enough to save us. They carried her into Herman's [house] and, from there, home. We sent for a doctor but no bones were broken. But her arm and neck were hurt and she was bruised otherwise. It was a Providential escape. If Ma had been in [the wagon], probably it would have been much worse. It seems as if I could not be thankful enough that it was no worse. The wagon and harness are all in pieces and were left on the road. The horse was not hurt. It is the same place where he has run twice before. I should not dare drive him again even if we had a wagon (which Pa says he cannot get). Times are too hard.

Not a scream escaped either of us [while we were in the wagon] -- it seemed an age before we were thrown out. Our clothes were injured considerably but that it nothing. I did not feel much hurt until the next morning since which I have been very sore and lame, and find blue spots now and then. It makes me shudder every time I think of it. The neighbors far and near came to see us, expecting we were almost killed. Mr. [Osee] Hall found the tracks. He said we went two rods on only two wheels and could not see what kept us from the awful stump and from being crushed. Surely it was a kind Providence. Sarah is not well yet. Her neck is very lame. I am thankful it is no worse.

Mr. Nealy has been very sick with Bilious Colic but is slowly getting better. We have received a letter from [my brother] James -- little less than a week ago. I thought by what he wrote [that] you were there while he was writing. I am glad you can go there and cheer them up. [Your brother-in-law, Reverend] Mr. Brooks came here one day last week. He says he wants to hear all the news. Mary went up to Candor and is to stay until Conference time.

Your Mother has received your letter through [the courtesy] of Mr. Brooks. We read dreadful things of Kansas [in the newspapers]. The Missourian's are making terrible threats and performing some of them. It is much feared here that there will be civil war and many say there surely will be fighting in Kansas. I dreamed there was [only] a few nights ago. I suppose it was because I am thinking of the possibility of it. If any such thing is going on there, I hope you and the rest will leave. What do you think about it?

[My brother] James writes [that] snakes are plenty. Are they poisonous? He writes there is scum [that] rises on the water. I should not think it would be healthy. I suppose they will dig [a well] as soon as possible. How does he get along? And is he contented? I hope he will be. Is it so dry there now? We are having such nice rains. I hope it reaches as far as Kansas. It is cold for this season of the year but so far we have rain enough. Our wheat is nearly all winter killed. Our cherry trees are in blossom but [our] peach trees are nearly dead. Apple blossoms are not very plenty.

Saturday evening [May 19] -- I received yours of the 6th inst. tonight with two others. One from Cousin Maria [Hollister] and the other from [my cousin] Nancy [Stratton Van Kirk]. Maria writes that Shelton was married the 12 of April to Emily Kingston, started for St. Anthony [Minnesota] immediately, and died the 29th of the same month with the cholera. The boat they took at Galena [Illinois] had seven hundred passengers on board and several died with the cholera. He was taken three days after his arrival and lived [only] three days. [8] It is dreadful for poor Emily. His brother James is there, and another old acquaintance, so that she is not truly alone among strangers. It is sad news to Maria and all. I fear from all accounts that the cholera will be very bad this summer. I fear for you all in Kansas. Do be very careful. It may be as bad here as there although it has not yet made its appearance. We have had no warm weather.

Nancy [Van Kirk] writes they are keeping house and like it much. [She says] old Mr. Van Kirk is dead -- also Mrs. Cromwell and Mrs. James Puff. Oliver Puff is married to Emiline Dudley. Sarah's neck and shoulder trouble her yet and I am afraid will for a long time. My bruises are well. How thankful we should be that it was not instant death.

You ask how many letters you are behind. I have forgotten, I write so often. One almost every week and have sent a number of papers. The papers all have a great deal about Kansas [in them]. I hope it will be a free state without more difficulty.

Mr. Knapp leaves Hatfield on account of ill health. He will try and recruit this summer. Pa thinks that Mr. Goodrich is not the one you refer to, but doesn't know. No Kansas papers have come. We should be very glad to get them but I am sorry, with all your other expenses, [that] you should do so. Mr. Bichnell has been enquiring where you and Henry are. He says he is going there with a team. Some doubt it. He is going alone. I hope Velma is better and the rest well. How do they all get along? I will send [more] papers. Be very careful and tell the rest to be. I shall be anxious to hear often and do write every opportunity. -- Augusta

P.S. The garden at the green house has given us some cucumbers. They are excellent. We have had some half a yard long. Strawberries very large. Do you remember bringing me from Windsor [Connecticut] some sweet blue violets? They lived, and when we left Buckingham Street, I took them with me. They had spread considerable and I gave Sarah Wright some. When I came home, I brought part of mine but they were smothered and, when I went [to Hartford] last summer, I found the others dead [as well. I guess they] had been moved too much. But Sarah Wright had told me if mine did not live, I should have some of hers. She died just before I went there but her mother wanted me to take any roots I chose and I [brought] some of the blue violets [home with me]. They are now leafing out and I hope they will prove to be the sweet ones. I shall prize them for your sake and for hers. Did I write you in my last that Mr. Brooks says a number intend going to Kansas from Candor in the fall? Mr. Judd for one. They think you are coming home and it will be a good opportunity to go.

[1] This line is from a poem entitled, "Ye Waiting Souls Arise" published by Charles Wesley in 1749. It was set to music in the early 19th century.

[2] Probably Amanda Crandall Savage, the wife of Joseph Savage. This couple came to Lawrence, K. T. in the spring of 1855 with their children. Joseph Savage was born in Hartford, Vermont in 1823, and first came to Kansas Territory with the New England Emigrant Aid Company's second party in the fall of 1854. Joseph Savage's farm was located about two miles southwest of Lawrence. See also "Lawrence in 1854: Recollections of Joseph Savage," Kansas History 27 (Spring-Summer 2004)

[3] Charles Bluejacket, a Shawnee Indian, ran an Inn where the California Road forded the Wakarusa River, just east of the town of Franklin. This was not very far from James' cabin in "Walnut Grove" near the Big Mound.

[4] In a June 22, 1855 letter to his father, John Brown -- the famous abolitionist, John Brown, Jr. wrote from his claim in Brown County, Kansas Territory, in which he too described the draught-like conditions:

"As we arrived so late in the season we have but little expectation of harvesting much corn, and but few potatoes. The rainy season usually commences here early in April or before and continues from six to eight weeks, during which a great amount of rain falls. This year we had no rain of any consequence before the 12 or 15th of May. Since then have had two heavy rains accompanied with some wind & most tremendous thunder & lightning. Have also had a number of gentle rains continuing from 2 to 24 hours, but probably not more than half the usual fall of rain has yet come."

[6] This social gathering in Topeka was described by F. W. Giles in his book, Thirty Years in Topeka, on page 32-33. It reads, in part: "The 17th of May was the day appointed for this first of all Topeka's social gatherings. All the people living on the town site, and for miles around -- Indians excluded -- were invited to participate in the festival....Numerous brief addresses were made, interspersed with sentiments and mirth-provoking witticisms. A vote of thanks was given to the ladies, the remaining cakes sold at auction for the benefit of the first church that should be built in Topeka, a fervent thanksgiving to God at the lips of the Rev. Mr. [Charles] Jordan, and the first social gathering in Topeka dispersed."

[7] Timothy Fessenden, from Leominster, Massachusetts (not Rhode Island) came to Kansas Territory in the First Spring Party of 1855, aided by the New England Emigrant Aid Company. He settled between Topeka and Tecumseh.

[8] The name of the steamboat upon which newlyweds Shelton Hollister and Emily Kingston boarded at Galena is not identified, but may have been the same boat [possibly the "The City Belle" ] taken by Fred Cummins, a youngster adopted by his aunt and uncle, who was also on his way to Minnesota. An account of their steamboat journey follows:

"...our ride up the river from Galena, which should have been the most enjoyable part of the journey, was made miserable by the presence of cholera and death on board which the crew tried to deny, but only succeeded in making the passengers distrust. They stopped by an island to bury the dead, not being permitted to carry the disease ashore, then the secret leaked out and gloom and consternation was the result. For myself, I dared not touch a morsel of food or drink water. I remember still the warning of one hypochondriac who was apparently thoroughly frightened, "The less you eat and drink on this boat the better!" A lady passenger entertained us by singing 'Lillie Dale'..."