be acceptable. There is so cool a breeze at all times on the plains
that the sun does not feel so hot as one would suppose.

We are now four hundred and fifty miles from Independence. Our route
at first was rough, and through a timbered country, which appeared
to be fertile. After striking the prairie, we found a first-rate
road, and the only difficulty we have had, has been in crossing the
creeks. In that, however, there has been no danger.

I never could have believed we could have travelled so far with so
little difficulty. The prairie between the Blue and the Platte
rivers is beautiful beyond description. Never have I seen so varied
a country, so suitable for cultivation. Everything was new and
pleasing; the Indians frequently come to see us, and the chiefs of a
tribe breakfasted at our tent this morning. All are so friendly that
I can not help feeling sympathy and friendship for them. But on one
sheet what can I say?

Since we have been on the Platte, we have had the river on one side
and the ever varying mounds on the other, and have travelled through
the bottom lands from one to two miles wide, with little or no
timber. The soil is sandy, and last year, on account of the dry
season, the emigrants found grass here scarce. Our cattle are in
good order, and when proper care has been taken, none have been
lost. Our milch cows have been of great service, indeed. They have
been of more advantage than our meat. We have plenty of butter and
milk.

We are commanded by Captain Russell, an amiable man. George Donner
is himself yet. He crows in the morning and shouts out, "Chain up,