Missouri to Idaho, 1881

Emily Towell

INTRODUCTION

It was the fertile Weiser River Valley in southwestern Idaho that attracted settlers to make their homes in that area. The little town of Middle Valley, known now as Midvale, became the locale of settlement in the late 1860’s.

The first white family to settle there were members of the John Reed family, who arrived in 1868. They built a one-room cabin on the bank of the Weiser River. John Reed constructed a sawmill on Pine Creek. The Reeds raised a family of eight children.

Other settlers came in the years following, but the most note-worthy boost came when there arrived in 1881 when a train of forty covered wagons came from Mercer County at the extreme north of central Missouri, and settled along the banks of the Weiser River at or near Middle Valley. The diary that follows is that of Mrs. Emily Towell, who traveled with the Mercer wagon train from Missouri to Idaho. Emily and her husband, Alexander, were not the usual young married persons we might expect to travel the Oregon Trail. Emily was born in October 1829, so was 52 years old at the time of their long venture. Her husband, Alexander Towell, was 66 years of age.

The Idaho State Historical Society in Boise has been most cooperative in helping with our research about the Mercer Wagon Train and has provided us with a list of the members of the wagon train that some of the travelers made after the long journey. We have poublished this list as an epilogue to Mrs. Towell’s diary.

The diary itself is now the property of the Idaho State Historical Society, and that organization has been most gracious in letting us have it for publication. One thing to notice is that the Towell family was made up of seven children: William, Thomas, Richard, Otho, Frank, Martha and Effie. Every day of their journey was filled with much activity.

EMILY TOWELL’S DIARY

On May 11, 1881, a small company of people gathered in Mercer County, Mo. This was the beginning of a long and eventful journey westward to the much-talked of Oregon Territory. The group numbered 47. There was much excitement that day. Every imagination was fired with dreams and visions of new homes and fortunes to be made in the fertile West. Tilford Lindsay was made leader of the wagon train for he had made this journey some time before and was more familiar with the routes and roads to be traveled. The parting from our relatives and dear ones was very sad and heartrending. There were many tears shed as those last fond farewells and goodbyes were said. Our hearts were heavey and leaden for we little knew when we would see those dear faces again. Alexander Towell’s brother, Baron Towell, and nephew, Rufus Clampit, met us at Princeton, county seat of Mercer county, 1 in Missouri and accompanied us on our journey the first day. We drove fifteen miles and camped at the Moss School house.

It was raining on the morning of May 12. We passed through Goshen City and drove on to Grand River Botton where James, Mahala and Frank McCloud joined us. The night was spent here.

May 13, we left Grand River Bottom and crossed the river, driving onward to Cainsville. On this day we were struck by a bit of ill luck. John Michael’s wagon broke down and had to be taken back to town for repairs. We made our camp beside a little church house near Rush Creek.

A hearty breakfast was enjoyed on the morning of May 14. A pleasant and refreshing breeze was stirring and all were in excellent spirits. We drove through a small town, known as Blythedale, and on to Big Creek where we stopped for dinner. After eating we resumed our journey, and drove through Eagleville [Missouri]. When darkness was upon us we stopped beside a small stream.

May 15 was Sunday, therefore, deemed it wise to rest, but the present camp to our way of thinking wasn’t a very desirable place to spent the day. For that very reason the horses were hitched up and we drove upon a hill. This was a country of gentle rolling prairies and was delightful to the eye. This was in Ringold and Taylor counties in Iowa.

May 17 found us in a very attractive portion of our great country. There were nice groves of trees, and very fertile farms, also, an abundance of good pure water.

Our camp was made beside a little prairie school house on the evening of May 18. We found the roads very muddy here as it had been raining most of the day.

May 20. We passed over some vary fertile land which was worth from ten to twenty dollars per acre. Here the stock law2 was in force. The “Caravan” wended its way along the banks of the West Nodaway River, and passed two wagons, each drawn by six yoke of oxen. Camp was made about one mile east of Red Oak. We entered Red Oak on May 21. It is located on the [East] Nisna Botna [sic] River. We passed through Emerson just as the sun was casting his last golden rays over the land, and dusky wings of night were slowly spreading great shadows over the land. This delighted eyes of the travellers. Green trees bordered the river which reflected the quickly changing hues and shades of the twilight. In Mills County, Iowa, there were farms where the corn had not yet been gathered. We had never before seen as much corn as there was here.

May 22. We drove until we reached the [West] Nishna Botna River which was extremely high and we were forced to cross at Massadona [Macedonia]. There were lovely fields of wheat, and the farmers were busily engaged in the planting of corn. This land produced approximately seventy-five bushels per acre. That was easily believed after seeing some great corncribs and great stacks of corn, piled all over the ground. The horses were watered at springs and wells all along the way. So far all the water was very good, and we were duly thankful for this. There were very few cattle to be seen here. The land owners here are a very clever and industrious people, judging by the appearance of their farms. The Nisna Botna river was crossed by ferry about 26 miles south [east] of Council Bluffs, Iowa. From this point we drove to Silver Creek and camped.

We arrived at Potawatamy [sic] County, Iowa, on May 23. We drove up a long hill and then descended, wound around between two hills and there lay the great Missouri river. On one side were lowlands and on the other side of the river great bluffs rose and towered over us. At the base of the bluffs were many dwelling houses. Every night in preparation for camp, the wagons were drawn into a circle and staked down. The horses were tied at the back of the wagons. The men took turns acting as sentinals. Two men would stand guard until midnight and then two more men took their places to stand guard until dawn. This was done to safe-guard against horse thieves and other pilferers who might menace the camp. Another reason for staking the wagons was to guard against possible wind storms. While in camp at Council Bluffs, a man entered camp and met the guard. The guard asked him why he was there and he in turn said he was trying to find a place to spend the night. The guard informed him that we were not keeping “tavern, ” but he might find an empty box-car to sleep in. It was believed that the man was planning to take some of the horses if he had not been seen by the guard. Even though we were not in our homes, a great many of the home tasks and duties of the housewife must be performed as usual. Chief among these tasks was the weekly family washing. The wives and mothers busied themselves with this task while the men went to town to seek information regarding the next river crossing. In town James McCloud’s horses became frighted of the trains and the wagon upset. Luckily, however, there was no serious damage.

May 25. We left Council Bluffs and drove through the lower portion of the twn, which had been underwater previous to our arrival. There were many skiffs(boat-like contrivances) scattered about the town. The river was very high and swollen and we could not reach the ferry. This necessitated another means of crossing. This crossing was made by means of the “cars.”3 Seven teams and wagons could be carried across at once. This was a three-mile ride, and when the journey ended we found ourselves in Omaha, Nebraska. Omaha had many beautiful structures and was quite a large city. We ate our dinner a short distance out of Omaha, near a little stream, and then drove a distance of ten miles before nightfall.

May 26. We drove through some country that did not make a very good impression on us, as it was poor and barren. There were no beautiful trees or grass here. The land was not fenced and was very meagerly populated. The Elkhorn river was crossed next. The water had been very high, also and the bottom land was very wet and muddy. The bridge was safe, however, and a man with a horse and buggy, piloted us over the bad places. His horse mired and all of the men assisted him out of his predicament. The Rawhide river was crossed near Elkhorn. From this point we drove onward until we were overtaken by darkness.

May 27. The roads at Schuyler were quite muddy as it had been raining. The next town was Richland. This section of land was very thinly settled. We travelled close to the railroad for some distance and camped about four miles east of Columbus [Nebraska].

May 28. We drove through Columbus and stopped at the edge of town, near the Loup river and ate dinner. We had to ford one prong of the river and cross the other prong on the ferry. The Loup river is similer to a fork. The wagons jolted and rattled over the quicksand and sounded very much like it “ was rock we were crossing. The Lindsay team took the lead. The cost for ferrying was two dollars per team. After driving for a short distance, camp was made on the sand.

On Sunday, May 29, everyone remained in camp until after dinner. The horses were hitched up and we drove upward to higher ground. Everyone was in good spirits and the boys were enjoying themselves immensely. A pretty grove of trees near a dwelling provided a very delightful camp ground. May 30. The “Caravan” reached Jackson near the river Platte. The Platte river is a large stream and has no timber on its banks. It is nearly level with the earth and for that reason it presents a strange picture. We viewed our first sod houses4 between Holt and Hall counties in Nebraska. As the rainfall had been very heavy the streams and rivers were all overflowing their banks, and the roads were in very poor condition, making progress impossible. Silver creek was high so the women and children crossed on the railroad while the men took the wagons and forded the stream. The water was swift and dangerous, and ran into the wagon beds. Once across the creek, we hesitated just long enough to eat a cold lunch and feed the horses. At night camp was made about three miles east of Clarksville.

Meric [Merrick] County, Nebraska, May 31. We passed through Central5 and on June 1, we drove into Grand Island. Grand Island is a railroad town and was very attractive. Camp was made on Wood river which has a scattering of timber along its banks—a mill was also situated here.

June 2. We passed through the town of Wood River. The night was spent at Beauty [Butte?].

June 3. The women folks did the washing and we remained in Beauty until noon. The water at this point was very poor. At noon the wagon train was moving onward. This part of the state appealed to us a wee bit more than what we saw of it when we first entered. However, it did not appeal to us strongly enough to make us desire to build our homes here. In Kearney City there were many wagons camped on the outskirts of the town. We paused long enough to exchange conversation with some of the travelers. The cars on the railroad were speeding past every few minutes. The passengers had a great deal of fun waving to the occupants of the wagons on the road. They motioned with their hands, pointing westward to show how much faster they could travel than we. The wagons were just plodding snails in comparison with the speeding cars. Again we drove beside the Platte river. There were hills on one side, and many sod houses also.

June 4. We camped at Elman [Elm] creek. It rained during the night. Nearly all dwellings were built from sod. We passed near enough to one to one to see it. The walls were plastered and were just as clean and white as those of any frame building.

At Plum creek, Nebraska, we camped in a low wet place. This was on Sunday, June 5. One of the horses was so lame that it was impossible to go further. Willie Caseldine went in search of a better camp site. The water was very poor and we were anxious to move on. The day was intenseley hot and there seemed to be a storm brewing. There was much discomfort among the members of our little band. At dusk, little Frank McCloud, son of James and Mahala McCloud, became very ill and went into a violent spasm. Someone was dispatched for a doctor immediately. The doctor said that Frank’s would soon be improved. Later Frank had two more spasms and once more the doctor came, but could do nothing for him. Another physician was summoned. This one said that it was conjestion of the brain which was caused by the intense heat. During the night, the storm which had been threatening all through the day broke in all its fury. Lightening danced across the heavens in bold streaks of fire; the thunder rolled and crashed; the wind howled and shrieked like wild and fearful demons. Then came the rain; it rained as it has never rained before. Would the night never end? Yes, even the longest night must draw to a close. Day dawned finding nearly everyone wretched and ill. The physician’s advice was for all of us to leave this camp immediately and find good water.

The following day, June 6, William Evans traded the lame horse for a good one, and we were on our way. Just out of Plum Creek little Frank went into another spasm. The doctor came to the wagon. When Frank was a little better we drove four miles further where the rest of the group were in camp. The little boy was carried to a section house where he could be properly cared for. Someone watched over him all during the night. Apparently the litle fellow was much improved during the day of June 7. He continued to feel better until evening, then began to grow steadily worse. The physician was called before the break of day, and stated that it was a hopeless case but he would do everything within his power to save him.

June 8. Victory Evans, Otho Towell and Billy Pickett’s baby were also ill. The entire camp was in a very poor frame of mind. Frank appeared to be some better, but was yet unable to travel. The remainder of the company favored moving on before they too were ill. The water was poor as it contained alkali, which made unceasing downpour, and the day was gloomy and dismal.

June 10. George Todd and James Rhea remained with the McCloud family to help care for Frank. The rest of the group went in search of a better place to stay. Everyone was reluctant to leave part of our number behind with sickness, and possible death as their grim host. After driving 16 miles, we were overtaken by James Rhea at Willow Island, who was bringing us word that Frank had passed away. Dudley Evans and Elvin Hague went back to assist with the last and final rites. It was a very sad mother and father who saw their baby, their most treasured possession, taken away from them. The child’s sweet baby prattle was sorely missed. There were many mounds at the side of the road, giving mute evidence of suffering and sorrow. In trials and desolation the Savior said, “Father, not my will but Thine be done.” So it be with us, not our will but Thine be done, Father.

Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens—Lord with me abide;
When helpers fail, and other comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me!
Heaven’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee;
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me! —Amen.

[The following words are written in another hand: Emily Towell became very ill at Willow Island, and her son, Otho, required anxious and vigilant care during the night. William Evans and Bill Pickett were sent back to Plum Creek for medicine. Dudley Evans and Elvin Hague rode into camp about midnight, weary and spent from a 40-mile ride. They had been with the McCloud family.]

June 13. We stopped a short time at Brady Station, in Lincoln county, Nebraska. The invalids were feeling better. We passed through Brady and drove beside great bluffs. There were great herds of cattle and sheep in the Platte valley. We liked it here even if it wasn’t a farming district. We crossed the North Platte river on the railroad bridge and entered Platte city. There was evidence of a bitter cold winter all around. There were stacks of carcasses all over the ground. Great herds of cattle had perished in the cold. Many thousand carcasses had already been hauled to the river. The night was spent at O’Fallons. We saw a herd of two hundred bulls. There were few flowers to be seen, only withered poppies, prickly pears and sunflowers. Now and then we glimpsed a few spears of green grass. There were a great many wagons going by also. Three miles east of Ogalala, [Ogallala], near the bluffs, we stopped to camp. Everyone who was able to climb, went exploring on the bluffs. There were mountain gooseberries, wild currents, and gorgeous wild flowers growing in profusion.

We reached Big Springs [Big Spring, Nebraska] on June 17. We arrived at Denver Junction on the following day, where we paused to eat lunch, then drove on to Julesburg [Colorado].

June 18. We arrived at Sydney [Sidney, Nebraska] and ate dinner. Here we were joined by James and Mahala McCloud. The camp was made six miles west of Sydney.

We remained in camp on June 19, as it was Sunday.

June 20. During breakfast a bit of excitement occured. A mare, belonging to William Evans, ran into a barb-wire6 fence and was injured. She was frightened by the railroad cars which were constantly passing by. We stopped at Potter Station for dinner. We were surprised when we met a mule train returning to Sydney. We had become acquainted with the people in this caravan as they had passed us on the road. We could tell by the expression of their faces that something dreadful had occured. A gun, which was in the wagon bows, discharged, accidently killing two children in the wagon directly behind. The mother and another child were wounded, and the same shot went through the ear of a horse. They were returning to Sydney to bury the children. A desirable camp was found on the banks of Lodgepole creek. A storm threatened to break soon, and it was necessary to be prepared for it. Cora Linsay and Thomas Towell became very sick while we were there.

June 21. We passed through Antelopeville and stayed at Bushnell [Nebraska] that night.

June 22. The morning was extremely cool and called for warmer clothes. The road followed Lodgepole creek for some distance. Everything in this vicinity was exceedingly dry. There were only stations along the railroad and no settlements. Here and there a ranch could be seen. There were great herds of cattle grazing along the creek and antelope were plentiful. At Pine Bluffs [Wyoming] we saw the largest herd of sheep ever seen hereto fore. Our resting place was beside Pole creek.

June 24 found us in a section of country where there had been a fierce hail storm recently, judging by the damage done. We were traveling on a high sandy plain, and the sharp thin cold air stung and nipped our faces. Warm coats and shawls were very necessary. Dinner was prepared near Atkins Station. The beautiful Colorado mountains and Black Hills7 could be discerned, rising and towering far above the earth in majestic serinity. We entered a valley and drove until we came to a lake west of Cheyenne. Here we spent the night.

June 25. We drove into Cheyenne. Cheyenne was an attractive and pleasant little town. The soldiers were stationed here, and our beloved “Stars and Stripes” floated peacefully and serenely above the hospital. The wrong road was taken out of Cheyenne, and we were forced to strike across the country, following a dim trail to reach the Cheyenne Pass. The outlines of the distant snow-capped mountains became clear and concise as we drove onward. The wagons were drawn into their usual circle for camp at Lodgepole creek. On the following morning we left camp by way of a small valley and drove up into the hills. Here the earth was a colorful shade of red. The road stretched ahead of us like an unending scarlet ribbon. The hills were covered with sage, and pine trees increased in number as we ascended higher and higher. No brush could paint the glories that met our eyes; no pen could write all the wonders we beheld, and no tongue could ever find adequate phrases to describe this startling beauty. There were awesome rocky cliffs towering skyward, hills covered with everygreen trees and carpets of soft green grass. A gorgeous array of wild flowers vivid splashes of cover in the wilderness, called forth explanations of surprise and pleasure. Trembling, quaking aspin trees bordered beautiful streams, flashing clear and irridescent in the golden sunlight. As we beheld these awe-inspiring wonders, our hearts arose to Him, our great Creator, in prayer and adoration. Truly, we were viewing the fingerprints of God! The caravan drew out of the hills into a valley near Larmie [Laramie] City. This made a delightful camp site. Beautiful snow-capped mountains could be seen to the south and west.

June 26. We entered Larmie City. The country around Larmie was sandy and desert-like. A little mountain stream provided a pleasant camp site.

June 27, Amanda Evans was ill. After driving all day over hills and rocks, we were glad to rest in a little spot near a pretty little stream.

June 28. Mrs. Evans was still unable to travel and we stayed in camp for another day. The men went hunting and returned with two antelope.

June 29. We crossed Rock Creek and stopped beside the creek to eat lunch. Three men took pails and went to the creek for water. They found the stream full of trout which could easily be dipped out if some of the water could be diverted from its course. They promptly set about to do this, and when they returned to camp their pails were filled with fish. A mad scramble ensued, for everyone snatched pails or vessels of some description and rushed to the creek. In a short time the very delicious aroma of frying mountain trout assailed the nostrils of a hungry and expectant group, causing their mouths to water. There was plenty of fish left over for further meals. It was a rare and unexpected treat that none of us will ever forget. Objects, which are a great many miles distant, often times seem very near in high altitude. Such was the case in the mountains of Wyoming. Alexander and Richard Towell started walking to the snow line after a pail of snow. It looked like it might be about one half a mile from camp. After they had walked several times this distance, they decided to turn back as it was growing quite late, and darkness would soon be upon them. Back in camp everyone was growing anxious about these two. It was getting quite late and they should of been back long before. Dark—still they didnt come! We all feared for their safety. We were afraid that some wild and savage animal had run across them, or worse than that, that they had become confused and were wandering around in the forest. At last we decided it was time to do something. The men mounted horses, took their guns and rode forth in search of Richard and his father. They rode for some distance and fired several shots. Richard and Alexander were close by and Alexander called to them. We left Rock Creek and drove to Medicine Bow and Mass Creek.8 Our camp was close to a ranch and not far from a soldier’s cemetery. They had all been moved to another burial ground and only the head boards and roughly hewn coffins were left behind. There were other graves too, possible graves of emigrants.

June 30. We were still in the Rocky Mountains. The weather was a great deal warmer than it was even though we were near the snow line. When we reached the North Platte River it was time to stop and prepare for the night. Our camp was near a cemetery, close to a ford where the river is divided by a small island. There is an interesting story in connection with this place. It was related to us while we were in camp here. It seemed that a small band of emigrants camped at this selfsame spot some years before we stopped here. They were attacked by the wily redskins and massacred. This accouned for a cemetery being located in such an out of the way place. We left the cemetery camp on July 1, and crossed the North Platte river. Some excitement happened while we were making this crossing. The stream had to be forded as there was no other means of crossing. When the wagons were in the middle of the stream, Emily Towell called her husband’s attention to the current. He became confused, thinking they were floating up stream instead of going straight across. He turned the team down stream. William Evans, seeing the danger, leaped into the swift current and swam to the horses. He turned their heads and prevented a tragedy. The Lindsay team became unhitched in the river and some quick thinking saved them. At this point the land is very barren. The water is poor. The only growing thing here was sage brush. The road wound around the base of a high mountain. A little further in the distance snow could be seen. In the evening we camped beside a spring on the side of the mountain.

July 2. We ate dinner in Rawlin[s], Wyo. We also laid in supplies. Here we left the railroad and drove 12 miles to the Sweet Water route.

July 3. There was not much activity in camp until noon for it was Sunday. We moved on to Bell Springs in the afternoon and camped. Bell Springs has its formation under a mountain of rock. The horses were turned loose to graze on the grass around the springs, and one of them mired down.

July 4. We crossed a sandy desert about 25 miles across. During the night it rained and made the air considerably cooler and traveling was much more comfortable.

July 5. John Evans became sick. We were still plodding over a sandy stretch of desert. There were mountains and green trees in the distance. The women-folk washed clothing at the Sweet Water river. This is a very swift stream.

July 6. The wind was cold and piercing. Gravel and sand were being blown constantly in our faces. We were traveling up grade most of the time and it was very difficult to make much progress.

[July 7] Again we camped at Rock creek, 9 a lovely thick carpet of green grass, near a huge bank of snow, provided a lovely camp site. We were surrounded on all sides by bluffs. The night was bitterly cold and all the pails of water froze over during the night.

July 8. The morning was very cold but not as cold as the day before. Soft fleecy clouds hung in the sky and the wind seemed a little more tolerant. The children explored everything within their reach. They found delicious wild strawberries and brought them back to camp. A great part of the day was spent driving on the sumit of the mountains. The roads were in good condition. The night was spent three miles south of Pacific Springs.10

July 9. The road was downgrade and about one hundred feet in width. On either side of the road were banks of snow. We met a band of cattle from Idaho, about seventeen hundred head. We stopped on the Little Sandy river.

Sunday, July 10. Provisions were getting very short. The weather was a trifle warmer, but there was a great deal of snow on the ground. A few spears of grass and sage brush seemed to be the only vegetation here. Miles and miles of prairie land lay before us. As we were driving along we encountered a band of ponies going westward.

July 11. We emerged from some strange appearing hills and crossed the green river on the ferry and drew into camp beside the river. An Indian buck and his squaw came to camp. Their little papoose died and they were on their way to bury it, they told us. Nearly everyone had caught colds up in the mountains and Willie Towell was quite sick.

July 12. The day was clear and pleasant for travelling. A distance of twenty-eight miles was covered. Mr. Lindsay had a sick horse to contend with and this slowed us down considerably. Dinner was eaten beside the river, on a nice grassy spot. A small grove of trees provided adequate shade. Night found us at Slate creek.

July 13. We saw a band of cattle from Oregon and Idaho. This made us feel much nearer to our destination. At Rock Springs there were hundreds of names and dates carved in the rocks above the springs, names of emigrants who had gone on before us. Some of our crowd cut their names beside those of their predecessors.

July 14, found us driving a mountainous country. There were steep slopes which we ascended and descended. Much grass and timber were growing here. On one side were huge mountains of rock, and on the other side were beautiful timbered slopes. There were flashing mountain streams and springs here and there. At night we camped near a little store. Alexander Towell was feeling a bit ill.

July 15. Some of the boys went on ahead to see about securing provisions. We crossed mountains all day, higher than those we crossed some time before. Descending a very steep mountain slope, we entered a valley where there were a number of houses and stores. The residents of this valley were busily engaged in railroad building. We rested that night at Smiths Fork, 11 on Bear River.

July 16. The river was crossed on a toll bridge. We then drove up the valley where the railroad was under construction.

July 17. We had only gone a short distance when one of the horses became lame and we were forced to stop. This was in a small valley where grass was very plentiful. A nice clear spring was situated here which made it quite convenient for us.

July 18. We drove through a narrow canyon and entered a beautiful and well cared for valley, known as Bear Lake valley.12 It was fenced and irrigated and the residents were all very busy as it was haying season in the valley. We camped on Bear river.

July 19. We reached Soda Springs, Idaho, and camped. Soda Springs was a very interesting place. Wherever we stepped on the rock formation around the springs, hollow echoes resounded. Mr. Lindsay was impressed with a little town near Soda Springs which was settled by Mormons. The railroad was soon to make its debut here, therefore, it looked very promising. Accordingly, Mr. Lindsay selected a claim. Mrs. Lindsay did not wish to stay here unless some of the others would stay too. Ten miles further up the valley we stopped at Hubles Springs.13 A ranch was located here, and some of the best appearing cattle and gardens we had seen.

July 22. We were still discussing the future possibilities of this lovely valley. It would not do for farming because of its location. As it was too near the mountains it would be subject to early frost which would make the production season very short. However, it was an excellent locality for the cattle raising industry. Mr. Lindsay talked with many of the residents and became thoroughly convinced that this was the place for him to stop. He could see no reason for going any farther when this valley suited his tastes perfectly. We were very sorry, indeed, to part with our good friends, the Lindsay family. We stopped long enough to wish them success and bid them farewell. In the evening we were overtaken by Leander Lindsay as we were preparing to camp. He said that his folks were hurrying to join us. There was much happiness and rejoicing when we heard this news.

July 23. Our caravan passed through Fort Hall, driving steadily toward Blackfoot, Idaho. When darkness closed in we were five miles from Blackfoot camped beside the Blackfoot river.

Sunday, July 24, we remained in camp until noon, and then drove to Blackfoot. Some Indians came to our camp at Blackfoot and asked for bread. The first bread we offered them was a trifle burned and they refused to take it. We stocked up in the supplies and provisions necessary while we were in Blackfoot. The ferry carried us across the Snake river which is a curving and winding stream. The night was spent close to the river.

July 25. A sixty-mile stretch of desert lay before us, and at noon we had covered twenty-three miles of the distance. The day was warm and uncomfortable for us. We stopped at a house for water. It cost fifty cents a span.14 Water had to be hauled sixteen miles to this place and that accounted for the high price. A cold lunch was prepared and soon we were on the way and covered a distance of sixteen miles and went into camp after dark in a dry dusty place. The place did not appeal to us very much but we were tired after riding so far and were glad to rest.

July 26. We followed a road that left the main traveled route and led to Lost15 river, which was eight miles from the place we camped. It was much further this way but we preferred this to so much dust from other wagons, and the long drives without water. We hesitated just long enough to eat a light lunch and water the horses. We then drove twelve miles over dusty roads. The wind was blowing and raising great clouds of dust. Travelling here was very disagreeable. John Evans became quite ill. Camp was soon made on Lost Soldier river, 16 near a little store. There was plenty of grass for the horses to feed upon.

July 27. The women did the washing, and the rest of the day was spent in resting for a long drive on the morrow.

July 28. We drove out into the desert for fifteen miles without water. We saw great bands of cattle, sheep and ponies. The road led over the mountains, through lava beds formed by extinct volcanoes, and over land which was formed chiefly from volcanic ash.

July 29. After driving the short distance of one mile, we came to a stream where there was a great deal of grass and we stopped here to allow the horses to feed. Wood River made an excellent camp site as there was an abundance of good water and fire wood. Wild currrants, red and yellow and black, were growing on the banks of the river.

July 30. We drove over Camas Prairie. The wind was blowing cold and disagreeable.

July 31. The day was exceedingly cold. A thin sheet of ice froze over the water in the water pails. Ice and snow could be seen on the mountains. We stopped to make camp at the end of the valley. We learned that the stage had been robbed here a few days before, and some horses had also been stolen. It was even more interesting to learn that the thieves had been captured and properly handled for their misdeeds.

August 1. We traveled over hills and through canyons a greater part of the day. At Castle Rock we ate a lunch. We camped about one and a half miles from the Dixie Post Office.17

August 2. This portion of the country was very hilly and rolling. Driving over hills and through interesting canyons we reached the little Boise Valley, and spent the night. This was near the mines consequently, every space where there was room enough for a hut and a little garden spot was occupied.

August 3. We entered Boise Valley and camped near a ranch near the river. We crossed the river.

August 4. The valley is a very rich looking place. Wheat, oats, barley and all kinds of vegetables. There were orchards, and the trees were all full of fruit. The branches hung low with their delicious burden, and seemed to be almost staggering under thir heavy load. There were apples, pears, peaches, plums and apricots. Many varieties of berries and grapes were also growing here. Boise City was a lovely town. It seemed to be concealing itself in foliage and beautiful green trees. The Caseldine and McCloud families, Elvin Hague, George Todd and James Rhea turned back to the Boise Valley. They wished to find work and stay there for a time. The rest of us moved on toward the Payette river and camped. The children wished to have a barbacue while we were camping on the Payette river. A great many rabbits were killed and dressed for the occasion. Everyone was busy making preparation for the barbecue in the evening. The children scurried here and there, gathering wood for the bonfires and had them all ready to light. In the evening the older folks joined the group and everyone joined in the merriment and fun.

August 6. We remained in camp while some of the men went to search for Crane Creek Valley. This was about thirty miles from the Payette Valley.

August 7. The men returned. They could not find the Crane Creek Valley. A council was held to determine the number in favor of going on to a valley where the choice of land could be obtained. Everyone was in favor of going at once.

August 8. We crossed the Payette river. An old man accompanied us as our guide to the Crane Creek Valley. Little progress was made on August 9, as the roads were very rough. The night was spent in a small valley. When morning came we looked about us to see what the place was like. There wasn’t sufficient water for irrigation, therefore we could not stay here.

August 11. Driving over hill and dale we reached Dixie Valley, and from there we drove on to Middle Valley.18 Middle Valley was a very fertile little valley, nestling down among sage covered hills. The Weiser River wended its way, peacefully through the little valley. Great promises were held forth to the weary travelers. Nearly all of the little band decided to stay in Middle Valley. Others took land in Salubria, Indian and other valleys. There were new hopes, aspirations and ambitions as there was much work to be done. Homes must be made. At last the long journey with its hardships and heartaches was over!

EPILOGUE

Migration of 1881: Mercer Co., Mo., to Midvale, Idaho

Persons	Surname	Given Name
9	Towell	Alexander
		Emily
		William
		Thomas
		Richard
		Otho
		Frank
		Martha
		Effie
3	Caseldine	William
		Martha
		Lawrence
3	Evans	John
		Amanda
		Dudley
5	Evans	William
		Victoria
		Seppie
		Walter
		Emma
1	Hague	Elvin
5	Holt	James
		Mary
		Dan
		Addie
		Mattie
7	Lindsay	Tilford
		America
		Leander
		Kelsey
		Flora
		Susie
		Cora
3	McCloud	James
		Mahala
		Frank
4	Michael	John
		Vashtie
		Plinn
		Florence
1	Oatneal	Chester
4	Pickett	Bertha
		William
		Joseph
		Lucinda
1	Rhea	James
1	Todd	George

Total: 47 persons

1 The most noteworthy of Princeton’s daughters was Martha Canary (1850–1903), better known as “Calamity Jane, ” who spent most of her grownup life in Montana and South Dakota. She took great pride in being able to out-chew, out-smoke, out-swear, and out-drink most of her male friends. Missouri, A Guide to the “Show Me” State (New York, 1941), p. 474.

2 Usually referred to as “herd law, “ concerned the ranging and grazing of cattle. Ramon Adams, Western Words (Norman, OK, 1944), p. 146.

3 In those days folks often spoke of traveling in “the cars.” This meant going by rail.

4 Because of lack of wood, people who settled on the Great Plains built themselves houses of slabs of prairie sod. Cass G. Barns, The Sod House (Lincoln, NK, 1970), passim.

5 Later Central City. Nebraska, A Guide to the Cornhusker State (New York, 1949), pp. 331–32.

6 On the Great Plains was early used for fencing due to the lack of wood. It’s invention is usually attributed to Joseph Glidden of De Kalb, IL. Amos Crouch, Antique Wire Illustrated, (Chandler, OK, 1978), passim.

7 Now called the Laramie Range.

8 This was Nash Creek, Albany County, (WY). Urbanek, op. cit., p. 142.

9 Site of Old Rock Creek Crossing on the Overland Trail. Later there was a railroad station on the Union Pacific with section house, pump house, and water tank. It became the center of a great deal of activity by horseback and wagon loads. There was also a general merchandise store. During the early 1880’s 175 freighting teams operated out of Rock Creek. Wyoming, A Guide to Its History, Highways, and People (New York, 1952, 4th printing), pp. 234–35.

10 A pleasant stopping place about three miles west of the Continental Divide whose waters flow toward the Pacific. Ibid, p. 151.

11 Named for Jedediah Smtih, one of the most noteworthy of the mountain men. Ibid., p. 186.

12 The northern half of Bear Lake is in Idaho; the southern halt is in Utah. The valley is about 20 miles north and south and 7 miles east and west. Lalia Boone, Idaho Place Names, (Moscow, ID, 1988), p. 22. William B. Smart, Old Utah Trails (Salt Lake City, UT), p. 72. Number 5 in Series.

13 This was undoubtedly Hooper Spring, part of the Soda Springs complex. Aubry L. Haines, Historic Sites Along the Oregon Trail (Gerald, MO, 1981), pp. 280–81.

14 A span is a liquid measure when it is used as the distance between two sides of the top of a bucket. That would be nine inches.

15 Big Lost River, Idaho, is so named because it flows into the Big Lost River Sinks adn completely disappears. It was also called Godin Valley, a name given to it by the trapper, Antoine Godin, in memory of himself. Boone, op. cit., pp. 30, 156.

16 The first settlers came to this locale in 1880. The name was later changed from Soldier to Fairfield, a name which they thought described the country’s beauty. Boone, op. cit., p. 131.

17 There were several settlements named “Dixie” in early Idaho. The founders were southerners who came west during and immediately after the Civil War.

18 The town of Middle Valley’s name was later changed to Midvale. Core Conley, Idaho for the Curious (Cambridge, ID, 1944), pp. 564–65.