Reaching the Missouri River on our way to our new home, my father was attacked with cholera, and died. In obedience to his dying instructions, my widowed mother, with her little family, continued on the way to our new home. But, oh! with what saddened hearts we entered into its possession. It seemed as if the light of our life had gone out. He who had been before to prepare that home for us, was not there to share it with us, and, far away from all early associations, almost alone in a new and sparsely settled country, it seemed as though hope had died. But God is merciful. He prepares the soul for its burdens. Of a truth, “He tempers the wind to the shorn lamb.” Our family remained in this pleasant prairie home, where I was married to Josiah S. Kelly. My husband’s health failing, he resolved upon a change of climate. Accordingly, on the 17th of May, 1864, a party of six persons, consisting of Mr. Gardner Wakefield, my husband, myself, our adopted daughter (my sister’s child), and two colored servants, started from Geneva, with high-wrought hopes and pleasant anticipations of a romantic and delightful journey across the plains, and a confident expectation of future prosperity among the golden hills of Idaho. A few days after commencing our journey, we were joined by Mr. Sharp, a Methodist clergyman, from Verdigris River, about thirty miles south of Geneva; and, a few weeks later, we overtook a large train of emigrants, among whom were a family from Allen County with whom we were acquainted—Mr. Larimer, wife, and child, a boy eight years old. Preferring to travel with our small train, they left the larger one and became members of our party. The addition of one of my own sex to our little company was cause of much rejoicing to me, and helped relieve the dullness of our tiresome march. The hours of noon and evening rest were spent in preparing our frugal meals, gathering flowers with our children, picking berries, hunting curiosities, or gazing in wrapt wonder and admiration at the beauties of this strange, bewildering country. Our amusements were varied. Singing, reading, writing to friends at home, or pleasant conversation, occupied our leisure hours. So passed the first few happy days of our emigration to the land of sunshine and flowers. When the sun had set, when his last rays were flecking the towering peaks of the Rocky Mountains, gathering around the camp-fires, in our home-like tent, we ate with a relish known only to those who, like us, scented the pure air, and lived as nature demanded. At night, when our camp had been arranged by Andy and Franklin, our colored men, it was always in the same relative position, Mr. Kelly riding a few miles ahead as evening drew near to select the camping ground. The atmosphere, which during the day was hot and stifling, became cool, and was laden with the odor of prairie flowers, the night dews filling their beautiful cups with the waters of heaven.