At Yankton I received particularly kind attention, from Mrs. Ash, of the Ash Hotel, who also gave me the information, elsewhere written, of the fate of Mrs. Dooley and Mrs. Wright. Here, also, I met a number of the Sixth Iowa Cavalry, to which gallant regiment I was under so great obligation. Dr. Bardwell, a surgeon of that regiment, who was at Fort Sully at the time the Blackfeet came in to make a treaty, and were sent off after me, and who, I had previously been informed, was active in measures tending to my release, was stationed at Yankton, and manifested the kindness of his heart in many ways. At Sioux City, Council Bluffs, and St. Joe, crowds of visitors flocked to see the white woman who had been a captive with the Indians; and I was compelled to answer many questions. From St. Joe, we made all haste for Leavenworth, Kansas, where I was received by friends and relatives as one risen from the dead. At last we reached our old home in Geneva; the home from which we had departed but a few months before, lured to new fields by the brightest hopes of future prosperity. Alas! what disappointments had fallen to our lot! But soon I was clasped in my dear mother’s arms, and all my sorrows were swallowed up in the joy of that re-union. On the morning of our departure for the plains, she said (while tears of sorrow filled her eyes) that she felt as though it was our final farewell. Her fears were agonizing in my behalf. She seemed to have a presentiment of evil—a dark, portentous cloud hung over my head, she felt, that would burst upon me, and scatter dismay and grief—which too well was realized in the days that followed. I endeavored to cheer her with hope, and smilingly assured her that, as soon as the Pacific Railroad was completed, I should visit my home and her; and, though many miles might separate us, we still would be one in heart; and the facilities for traveling were becoming so easy and rapid, we could not be separated for any great length of time. But her sad heart refused to be comforted. A mother’s unchanging love—stronger than death, faithful under every circumstance, and clinging with tenacity to the child of her affection, could not part with me without a pang of anguish, which was increased tenfold when the news of my capture reached her. Gradually she sank under this heavy affliction; health rapidly gave way, and for three long months she lay helpless, moaning and bewailing the loss of her children; for, scarcely had she aroused from the terrible stupor and grief which the news of my brother’s death from poison, while a soldier in the Union army, had plunged her, when this new and awful sorrow came like a whirlwind upon her fainting spirit. But God is good. In his great mercy he spared us both, to meet once more, and a letter from my hand, telling her of my safety, reached her in due time; and in each other’s fond embrace we were once more folded.