CROSSING THE PLAINS. 



Gen. John Gibbon, U. S. A. 



The passenger who to-day crosses the 

 continent, seated in a luxurious 

 Pullman car, surrounded by all 

 the conveniences of the age; and travel- 

 ing at the rate of 30 miles an hour, has 

 little idea as to how the journey was 

 made 35 years ago, when the distance 

 now passed over in three days required 

 nearly three months to accomplish. 

 What to him is a deluge of rain, a hail 

 storm, or a sand blizzard? He is com- 

 fortably housed, warmed and fed, and 

 his horses never give out or drop down 

 in their harness. What is it to him 

 whether wood, water and grass are 

 plentiful — whether he be passing through 

 a desert or a Garden of Eden ? But 

 these were all important, and sometimes 

 vital questions, to the traveller of three 

 decades ago. 



I recently came across, among some 

 family papers, a package of old yellow 

 sheets, which turned out to be the jour- 

 nal kept by me when crossing the plains 

 in i860. It was written for the gratifica- 

 tion of friends in ''the states " and was 

 sent, leaf by leaf, as the various stage 

 stations along the road were passed. 



Although not as ancient, nor as inter- 

 esting as the old Knickerbocker manu- 

 script, immortalized by the genius of 

 Washington Irving, yet it seems to me 

 to contain some things which might in- 

 terest the present generation, especially 

 as marking the immense stride which 

 has been made in the development of 

 our country during the past 35 years. 

 The vast country lying between the 

 Missouri river and the settled valley of 

 Salt Lake, was then little better than a 

 wilderness, with but three army posts to 

 serve as sort of rallying points, or resting 

 places, along the emigrant road to 

 Oregon. These were Fort Kearney on 

 the Platte river, Fort Laramie on the 

 Laramie river, near its junction with 

 the north fork of the Platte, and in the 

 midst of the Sioux country, and Fort 

 Bridger, near the eastern part of Utah 

 territory, named after the celebrated 

 guide and scout, "Jim" Bridger, and 

 rendered famous by the fact that here 



General Albert Sidney Johnston spent 

 the winter of 1856-7, with his little army, 

 before entering Salt Lake city. With 

 the exception of these posts, the stage 

 stations along theroad, and now and then 

 a sod house, occupied by a waif from 

 civilization, at the risk of his life, and 

 living, Gods knows how, there were 

 actually no inhabitants other than the 

 buffalo, elk, deer, antelopes, wolves, 

 prairie dogs, and a few other and smaller 

 kinds of animals. 



It w r as, of course, the Indian's paradise, 

 for as long as the herds of buffalo existed, 

 the Indian could supply himself with 

 food, clothing and shelter. No wonder 

 he bitterly complained that the white 

 man's road through his country, with its 

 long string of white wagons, and the 

 crack of the white man's rifle, drove 

 away the game on which he depended, 

 not only for his food, but for clothing 

 and shelter. But the white man could 

 not heed the complaint of the poor 

 Indian, for 10 years before gold, in 

 vast quantities, had been discovered on 

 the Pacific coast, and this was then the 

 shortest road to get at it, hence barbar- 

 ism and the buffalo must clear the track 

 for "civilization," 



In Utah was maintained a small 

 military force to look after the Mormons; 

 and to supply the vacancies occurring 

 there, recruits had to be sent out from 

 the east, making the march of 1200 

 miles to Camp Floyd. Such a body of 

 recruits was formed at Fort Leaven- 

 worth in the spring of i860, and with it 

 were to go out a number of officers be- 

 longing to the posts along the Oregon 

 route. Some of these were to be ac- 

 companied by their wives and children. 



The resurrected manuscript thus de- 

 scribes our start from Fort Leaven- 

 worth : 



the start, June 6th. 



We were all packed and got the 

 wagon off by 9, and about 1, bidding 

 our friends good-bye, we entered our 

 ambulances and started on our long 

 tiip across the prairies. Fannie and the 



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