KANSAS HOMES. 
53 
above the earthly. Never until now have I revelled in such mani¬ 
fold and different shades of coloring, or felt so deeply my own 
insignificance beneath creative power. We admire, we worship, 
we adore, when His presence speaks in the loveliness of this Eden. 
We feel it in the voice of his thunders — in their unwritten mag¬ 
nificence and grandeur. 
Take a walk down to the town, and call upon one of our fellow- 
travellers. We find her in a little cabin of mud walls, cotton-wood 
roof, and with cloth covering the inside. It is tent-shaped, and 
very small. There is an earthy smell and a stifled feeling as I 
enter the low door; and, as I at a glance see the want of comfort 
pervading all, I scarcely can find courage to ask how she likes 
Kansas. A bed, standing crosswise, fills up one entire end of the 
cabin, leaving only about eight feet square of space for the family, 
consisting of father, mother, and four little girls under six years. 
Two rough benches, about two feet in length, and two rude tables, 
make up the furniture. The cooking is done out of doors, after 
camp fashion. The children have been very ill, and the little one 
now tosses restlessly in its fevered dreams. 
I talk cheerfully of the homes we hope to have when a few 
months are passed — of the comforts, the institutions, which we will 
gather around us; but my heart is sad for the little, frail, heart¬ 
broken looking woman and her four little ones, and involuntarily 
my mind questions whether like cares shall make their young 
girlhood wear the look of age. I can bear no longer the oppres¬ 
sion, the feeling that the walls will come together, crushing 
me like a mere shadow between them; and, with a promise to 
come again, breathe most thankfully the unconfined fresh air. 
The mail is in, and, in the office of a friend near by the post- 
office, we wait for its distribution. Letters from home are a 
pleasant reward. I met Mr. C., of Philadelphia, who says 
doctor has returned home with a carriage-load of company. There 
surely is no end to the company. The house now is full in every 
corner. I give up my room again, and make two extra beds on 
the floor. I am not yet rested from my journey, and the constant 
excitement since. Now there is an ungoverned, noisy child, — a 
continual presence, — and no quiet place in the house where I can 
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