notice plenty of cows feeding along the way, among this wealth of grass, and, beside most of the cabins, ricks of hay, stacked for the winter's feed. Meanwhile, our eyes look earnestly forward for the first indication of the town of Lawrence. At our left, far off, the hills rise grandly, terrace-like, one back of the other,—and so green and smooth! Our driver calls the most prominent one, "Blue Mound," where the prophets of these tribes see fine college buildings looming in the years of Kansas' glory and prosperity.
Soon this little wisp of a man tells us to "Come down from the mountains," and look at the city at our feet. One could hardly conceive of a picture so really beautiful, of a town one year old. As we enter, the river—which we do not see—forms the background, with its thickly-wooded bank. A few nice-looking houses appear, and cabins quite numberless. We ride to the door of the Cincinnati House. And now, my dear mother, my journey is over. I tie my knot, and, with a nervous, trembling hand, say, good-bye. Keep the corner for me warm, because I shall prove, like the dove of old, a returner to the old ark.
