difficulty, and unloading our cart in order to make our way up the steep
ascent on the farther bank. It was a Sunday morning; warm, tranquil and
bright; and a perfect stillness reigned over the rough inclosures
and neglected fields of the Delawares, except the ceaseless hum and
chirruping of myriads of insects. Now and then, an Indian rode past on
his way to the meeting-house, or through the dilapidated entrance of
some shattered log-house an old woman might be discerned, enjoying all
the luxury of idleness. There was no village bell, for the Delawares
have none; and yet upon that forlorn and rude settlement was the same
spirit of Sabbath repose and tranquillity as in some little New England
village among the mountains of New Hampshire or the Vermont woods.

Having at present no leisure for such reflections, we pursued our
journey. A military road led from this point to Fort Leavenworth, and
for many miles the farms and cabins of the Delawares were scattered
at short intervals on either hand. The little rude structures of logs,
erected usually on the borders of a tract of woods, made a picturesque
feature in the landscape. But the scenery needed no foreign aid. Nature
had done enough for it; and the alteration of rich green prairies and
groves that stood in clusters or lined the banks of the numerous little
streams, had all the softened and polished beauty of a region that has
been for centuries under the hand of man. At that early season, too,
it was in the height of its freshness and luxuriance. The woods were
flushed with the red buds of the maple; there were frequent flowering
shrubs unknown in the east; and the green swells of the prairies were
thickly studded with blossoms.

Encamping near a spring by the side of a hill, we resumed our journey in
the morning, and early in the afternoon had arrived within a few miles
of Fort Leavenworth. The road crossed a stream densely bordered with