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Doctor

Oct. 14th. A beautiful day. The air is hazy from the many fires on the prairie, which are burning day and night. They are a grand and sublime sight when spreading over a large tract, the tall grass waving with every breeze, now fiercely blazing, and now with graceful undulating motion, looking indeed like a flame," when the fiery billows surge and dash fearfully; the winds are still, like an unruffled, quiet burning lake. went to Wakarusa again to visit some sick friends. Word had been sent us of a new road, and we attempted to find it. After leaving the old road and riding some distance across the prairie, where there was no track, and through fields partly fenced, we came to a line of timber, where all our directions failed, and the straight way seemed wholly lost. As we were halting to decide upon our course, a woman came toward us from a little cabin not far off. She directed us to a little foot-path through the timber, and we followed it, turning this way and that to avoid crushing the wheels against the trees, and at every moment bending low to save our heads from striking the huge branches. After a quarter of a mile of such travelling, we were at the crossing. And such a crossing! If the old crossing was poor, this was so in a superlative sense, so very steep and abrupt. We went into the water with a lurch, almost tearing the body of the carriage from the wheels. A man came to the opposite bank, which was some twelve feet high, and not lacking much of being perpendicular, and by motions, and a few words we could hear, made us understand that we must keep down the river a little further, in the attempt to Coming to the other shore, there was a little bank about

cross.

a foot high, then a level broad enough for the wagon to stand upon, before reaching the perpendicular hill. The horse was frightened, and unwilling to take us out of the water. Doctor jumped out to the shore, and I was gathering strength for a similar leap, when one foot broke through the bottom of the buggy, and I was fairly caught. However, as the doctor was holding both my hands, I did not go into the water. The horse, finding himself without a load, walked out of the river. A consultation was then held with the man on the bank, as to the probability of getting to the summit with the carriage. He said he had never seen any carriages go up, but oxen had been. By leading the horse and pushing the carriage, the height was gained, while I clambered up by a winding path, over huge logs, and whatever came in my way. We returned to L. by still another route.

On the ninth of October the election for territorial delegate to Congress, and delegates to the Constitutional Convention, was held. In Lawrence, five hundred and fifty-seven votes were polled for Gov. Reeder.

21st. The weather is getting frosty, and reminds us that bland airs and summer skies do not always last. Mr. W. arrived from Boston. He has had a long and tedious trip through Missouri by cars, boat and stage, and has had some conversation with the people. In fact, he has seen something of the ruffians.

23d. Mr. W. and Mr. P. return from Topeka nearly frozen. Mr. W. is much pleased with the country, though he sees it under most unfavorable circumstances. Business at home makes his

stay here very short. He amuses us with his report of the crowded state of the boarding-houses at Topeka. Some dozen or more sleeping in an unfinished room, in berths like those on boats, while the cold was most severe. The place left for a window was wholly open, thus giving a free circulation to the frosty air.

The Constitutional Convention, held at Topeka, was called together at one o'clock, Oct. 22, by J. A. Wakefield. A quorum not being present, the convention adjourned until Wednesday morning. The convention was called to order. Prayer by Rev. H. S. Burgess. Roll called by J. K. Goodin. Thirty members

responded. S. C. Smith, of Lawrence, was elected secretary; J. H. Lane, president. The oath of office was administered to the president and the several members by J. A. Wakefield. Rev. Mr. Burgess chosen chaplain; McIntire, door-keeper; Lyman Farnsworth, sergeant-at-arms; S. F. Tappan, reporter for the Herald of Freedom; John Speer, reporter for the Kansas Tribune; E. C. K. Garrey, reporter for the Kansas Freeman; J. Redpath, reporter for the Missouri Democrat.

Nov. 15th. Rainy and very chilly. A military supper in the evening. For two or three days men have been out in the woods hunting game; and to-night a large number of our citizens have gathered to partake of the supper, and join in the general festivities of the hour. Notwithstanding the rain, the mud being over shoes in depth, at an early hour the large dining-hall of the hotel was full of people, our neighbors and friends, while many came from miles away. A piano stood at the upper end of the room, -parlor and dining-hall being thrown into one, and over the arch of the folding doors waved the "star-spangled banner," presented to the military companies on the fourth of July. The tables occupying the length of the hall, in double rows, were loaded with wild game, rabbits, squirrels, prairie-chickens, turkeys, and one porker, whether native of the country, deponent saith not, - while cakes of every variety, with pastry, grace the table. All this cooking was done by one lady, - one of the earliest settlers, -who has the Yankee adaptedness of character to the circumstances in which she is placed. It was a New England gathering, though some, by their dress, tinsel ornaments, or their peculiarity of speech, showed that their home was further west. Some of the latter were asking continually, "When will the supper be ready? If there is going to be anything to eat, let us have it now." That our people are eminently social, the frequent public gatherings here and at Topeka will bear witness. A person coming in to mingle in the scene would never realize he was in a newly settled country, or in a town scarcely a year old.

18th. We heard yesterday that Mr. C., who for several weeks has been very ill, but had partially recovered, is taken down again with symptoms of fever and ague. The weather is exceedingly

cold, and he is in a little "shake" cabin, where the wind creeps in at every crevice, playing hide-and-seek with the papers pasted on the walls. The house has but one room, beside a little attiv, which is used for kitchen, dining-room, bed-room, sick-room, and general receiving-room. Worn out with Mr. C.'s long illness, and that of her little daughter, the lady, who has watched over him with a mother's gentleness, is also ill. I send to Mr. C. to come to our house if he can be brought; and soon a carriage drives up with the shadow, pale and ethereal, which sickness has left of Mr. C., wrapped up in coats to the number of three, with comforters and other articles to keep the cold from striking his attenuated frame. He says, in his own peculiar way, "I thought, Mrs. R., I would never be here again; but it is delightful, and I feel better now."

The sun was shining pleasantly in at the windows, the fire was crackling in the stove, spreading a genial warmth throughout the room, and, seated in the nice large rocker drawn up before it, Mr. C. could look out upon the beautiful country miles east and south, and, in his enthusiastic love of nature, would forget his own ills. It was pleasant to see the effect of physical comfort. Now, with outward cheerfulness, came inner strength and courage. Naturally of very slender constitution, with too much mental power for the physical, with energy and inherent love for freedom and justice, Mr. C. has, in working for the cause here, gone beyond his strength, and pays the penalty in a wasted frame and general prostration. There has been a good deal of sickness in the country this fall, slow fever and chills. They prevail mostly in the low grounds near the rivers. We hear from some settlements, especially from those south on the Neosho, that sickness has laid its heavy hand on the strongest, and scarcely any have escaped the paralyzing blow. So far as we can learn, exposures, either necessary or unavoidable, have been the cause.

The

The colony at Hampden has suffered most deplorably. facts, as given me by one of the residents, are these: There were one hundred members of the colony, men, women and children, when they arrived in the territory. When the town site was laid off, there were over sixty men to receive their apportionment of

lots. They came in April, and in order to provide for the winter store, they thought first of all it was necessary to get the seed into the ground, they living meanwhile in tents. All their energies, forgetful of present necessities, seemed to be directed to their future good. Health and valuable lives were sacrificed thereby. There was no saw-mill, and whatever houses they made at last were of logs and "shakes." There were very few springs in the vicinity, consequently they drank of the river water, which is slow and sluggish, and, when the dry season came, was covered with a green substance found upon all stagnant water, although good water could be obtained by digging twenty-five feet, as one or two wells proved.

With sickness of body came heart-sickness, and a yearning for pleasant New England homes; and most of those who lived through such discouragements either went to other settlements or returned.

At Osawattomie, situated near the junction of the Potawattomie and Osage, in a pleasant, though rather low country, fever has burned up the blood of many, leaving wan cheeks and livid lips. Yet, every one is free to acknowledge that no country has a purer atmosphere, or more healthful climate. In cases of sickness in Lawrence, they have, so far as I know, been owing to some gross outrage of the physical laws of our being, some unwarranted overexertion of energies either mental or physical; a knowledge of such undue effort being confessed to by the individual, with the expectation that sickness would follow.

The climate, or the country, should bear no part of the blame. It is a question whether, in the necessary exposures of our new homes, the never-ceasing labors incident to such a situation, we are as guilty as those who court sickness in the states, by rash violation of the laws which govern us.

The cholera raged for a time upon the Wakarusa, for which drinking of the stagnant water in the river's bed, the result of an unprecedented drouth of ten months, and in many cases a sad want of personal cleanliness, was the prolific cause. About the same time, a gentleman near the same region walked into Lawrence in the heat of the day, with perspiration starting from every