Dear Group, I've just finished transcribing a long Letter to the Editor of June 29, 1883 that was sent to the "Niagara County News," published in Youngstown. It was written by Julia S. Nichols who was probably a member of the Nichols/Pierce family from Lewiston and Niagara Falls that settled here in the early days of the settlement. Gad Pierce was the first(?) Justice of the Peace of the Town of Porter. He shows up in our earliest town records in 1815. In 1883 Julia Nichols apparently left this area and went to her chosen destination, Nebraska. And when she arrived there it's obvious that she wanted to share with her friends back home what the "new land out west" was all about. And so she wrote a letter to the editor of our local newspaper. This is what she wrote. Niagara County News, Youngstown, NY, June 19, 1883 A LETTER FROM NEBRASKA Dear News-You have come all the way from Old Niagara a distance of one thousand miles to see me. A welcome visitor you are. I feel like chatting with you a little while today-telling you of my journey from Toledo, Ohio, to Pawnee City, Nebraska. Starting April 23rd at 6 p.m., a ride of one hour and a half brought me to Treemont, where, after visiting three hours, I took the train on the Lake Erie & Western. Daylight finds me at Muncie, Indiana, an old settled place as large as Lockport. We were until noon crossing Indiana; a beautiful tract of country, pleasant homes, orchards, fences-looking much likeYork State. We had scarcely crossed the Illinois line before a great prairie stretched away! away! as far as the eye could reach, reminding me of the story about the man who started out in the morning to plow around his Illinois farm, bidding his wife and little children goodbye; when he returned from one round his wife had died from old age and his children man and woman grown. The buildings are inferior, standing out alone against the sky, not a tree, or fence, or road visible; but immense cribs of corn and droves of cattle and hogs; men were plowing, and the soil looked back and rich. This being a new railroad there were numberless little towns along the way, with the one store, post office, "Grand Central Hotel" and ever present saloon. The train ran very slow, owing to the uneven roadbed-the soil is so loose that the road sinks. We turn from the not very inviting scene outside and amuse ourselves looking at our fellow passengers. The lady occupying the chair next me has two tin boxes of silk-worm eggs which she has brought from New York City and is taking them to her children in Kansas, where the mulberry tree grows that they feed upon; 27,000 eggs to one ounce, and cost $10; she is kept busy fussing with them, as they are on ice to keep from hatching. There in the other end of the car is a party of ten young men on their way west to make their fortune; we study their faces and wonder who will succeed-not that one that is already fleeced out of $10 by a Rochester drummer, in card-playing; his destination is Kansas City, and he is already getting homesick. We overhear the conversation of two gentlemen from Pontiac, Mich., that sit behind us; they have spent the winter among the orange groves of Florida, to which their sun burned noses bear witness, and are now on their way to the mines of Colorado, where they have money invested; we are much interested listening to their speculations upon the underdeveloped sources of wealth and future of the Great West. We arrive at Bloomington, Ill., at 2 p.m., which is rightly named, for it is "as a rose blooming in the wilderness," or rather desert of prairie, a lovely place-hilly, with groves of trees and handsome residences. We had a good chance to see the city, as we waited three hours for the train over the Chicago & Alton RR, for Kansas City. We crossed the Mississippi River at midnight; the bridge is one mile long and the train moves very slow; a number went out on the platform while crossing. I looked out the window, but could see nothing but bridge and a very wide river. Soon after a storm of wind and rain, accompanied by vivid lightening, struck us, the rain beating against the window with a force that made it seem like hail. The train just crept along, swaying in the storm, and frightening many of the passengers; all talking ceased, and in silence we awaited the result. It passed over in about an hour, and we came through all right, and Missouri's diversified landscape broke in upon our sight at daylight; its rocky bluffs, deep ravines, small prairies surrounded by quite respectable forests, farms, well fenced, orchards, attractive little villages, almost everything that goes to make up a scenery that delights the eye. At 8 a.m., our train slackened as it wound around the base of a mountain, on whose side, and at whose feet, lies Kansas City, noted for its manufactories, largest beef-packing establishment in the world, greatest number of sharks and guerillas, a Railroad center, a perfect Babylon; and calls itself the third city of the west, this side of the Rocky Mountains, giving only Chicago and St. Louis the precedent-I saw but little of it, except from the car window, as I had but a short time to remain before I boarded the train for my destination. We ran up on the Missouri side of the river, keeping it in sight most of the way. It has been called the "Muddy Missouri," but I failed to see much mud. The banks are quite high. It is an irregular stream, sometimes broadening out very wide, with islands in the center, then narrowing down to a width that seems but a stone's-throw across. For some distance a mountain towered upon the other side of us. It was along here that the James Brothers operated, and I involuntarily looked up among the cliffs to see if an outlaw were not peering out at us. The conductors and brakemen carry their revolvers in plain sight through this section. Whenever we came out from behind these mountains, we saw beautiful broad fields in proportion, to suit an Eastern man, but squalid huts for homes. Nature has done much for this place, but owing to the class of people occupying it, the civilized man has passed it by. We crossed the river over into Kansas at Atchinson, which is built on a high bluff. A railroad town of goodly size. This is the third time we have crossed the Missouri. Now comes field after field of wheat, and droves of cattle and sheep. This you still see after entering Nebraska, but the land becomes more rolling. Pawnee County is on the southern line, and but one county west of the Missouri. It is divided into gently undulating plains, covered with fine herds, and fields of corn and oats, and groves of maples and cottonwoods. This is part of Fremont's "Great American Desert, a treeless, rainless tract," but now how different, as soon as the soil was broken, the rain descended, and man has planted many trees, until in time it will be a far more wooded country than the Eastern States, where they are now destroying the forests. They have felt the need of their protection both winter and summer, and guard and care for them as an Eastern man would a valuable fruit tree. They make an astonishing growth, attaining three feet the first year from the seed. You will see men, women and children gathering the maple seeds in April, planting them the same spring. Pawnee City is the county seat, 25 years old. It has not a musical name, but is beautifully situated, spread out over several of these hills, neat home-like dwellings, several handsome residences, substantial brick blocks, a large stone court house, 3 banks, 4 hotels, opera house, and 4 churches, all surrounded by groves of trees. Not a saloon; no beer drank here. This is the strongest temperance place that I ever heard of. The temperance people rule in everything. There is but one railroad, but another is in contemplation. Many cars are loaded with stock and corn daily for Chicago. I saw a drove of 1500 cattle from the farm of ex-Governor Butler, the first Governor of Neb., who lives but a few miles from here on his beautiful farm. Land round about Pawnee is quite valuable. It has doubled in price during the past year, and is still on the increase, this being the oldest and most thriving town in southern Nebraska. Eastern men choose this section in preference to the middle or valley of the Platte, which is a treeless, and in some places sandy tract, and the northern, with its barren black hills, subject to severe hailstorms that destroy their crops. Land is cheaper there, but it is not as desirable a place to live. All varieties of fruit can be grown here. There are not many orchards, but there is no reason under the sun why they cannot be grown. The largest apple ever grown in America was from Nebraska, a model of which can be seen at the Smithsonian Institute, its weight being 29½ ounces. Fruit-growing seems small work to them; they prefer raising corn, where they can ride while plowing and planting and cultivating, and this is all finished by July 1st and then, excepting the oat harvest, nothing more to do until haying, which is in September, corn picking the last of October, or when the frost has opened the husks, and lasts one and two months, or all winter if they are so disposesd. They drive along with a wagon, just breaking off the ear of corn, leaving the husks on the stalk, turning in their stock to finish up the work. The farmers don't work here as they do east; every Saturday you may easily count four or five hundred teams in the street. They come in the morning and stay all day; handshaking and a good visiting time is the order. Verily it seems like a town meeting in every sense of the word. The average yield of corn is fifty bushels per acre, the price ranging from 30 cents to 45 cents; it is bringing 40 cents now, but can be doubled in price by feeding to cattle and hogs. A Nebraskan says, "Live stock is Nebraska's stronghold." Cattle, horses, mules, hogs and sheep. David speaks of the "cattle upon a thousand hills," but the Nebraskan of the "cattle o'er all these wide extended plains." He calls Lincoln the "Magic City of the West"-in fifteen years from a blank prairie to nearly 20,000 people. Nebraska has three quarters of a million of people, more public schools than California, Connecticut, Delaware, Maryland, New Hampshire, Rhode Island or Vermont. She ranks as the 7th corn State in the Union, her product the present year being estimated at 120,000,000 bushels. The soil is a black loam; when wet it sticks like wax, but the mud is never deep. In two hours after the severest rains teams will trot right along. We have had delightful weather since the first of May. Roses were in blossom May 15th, and still continue to bloom. Ripe strawberries and cherries, new potatoes and green peas the first week of June. Corn is now two feet high, oats 18 inches. We will enjoy this while we may, for when the hot winds of July and August come we will sigh for Niagara's cool breezes; but the nights are ever cool, no matter what the day has been. Decoration Day was observed with appropriate exercises. An oration composed and delivered by a gentleman of this town, an original poem by Capt. Humphrey, a verteran, a member of the State Legislature, and a citizen of Pawnee. The day was a balmy summer's day, and the graves were lavishly strewn with flowers. Conspicuous among the crowd was an Ex-Confederate Officer of a Virginia Regiment, wearing a heavy medal for valor shown in leading his men at Chancellorsville. As I looked upon the thin bronzed face, I thought there was a gleam in the dark eyes, that were riveted on the speaker of the day, saying: "We were conquered, but we have not forgotten our "Lost Cause." You will say "tell us of some of the disagreeable things out there." During the month of April, averaging about two days a week, the wind blows a perfect gale, the same in the fall, and the storms are fearful; only once, however, have I been thoroughly frightened; it was in the early evening; great black clouds loomed up from the east and west, accompanied by terrific thunder and lightning-when they met-had you not feared for your life-it woul d have been grand beyond expression. It did not subside until midnight. "It is an ill wind that blows nobody any good," and these storms purify the air. No malaria here; the air is clear and dry, the best of water, (nearly as soft as rain water) to drink, makes the climate healthy. The people here are the same as in other western towns, from "everywhere." The Pastor of the Presbyterian Church is the Rev. N. Chestnut from Philadelphia, son of the clergyman after whom Chestnut street was named. The Methodist minister is from Ill., United Presbyterian from Ohio, Baptist from Kentucky. The singing in the Presbyterian Church is excellent, conducted by Dr. Henry, a leading physician. While listening to the singing, I think of my Lewiston home, and of our own Doctor there, wondering if all Presbyterian choirs are led by the physician of the place, the same thing having occurred at the church I attended in Toledo. Nearly every business man in town has his stock ranch from which has really made his money. They talk of going West here, the same as Eastern people talk of going to Dakota, Nebraska, Kansas, California and Oregon, being the terminus of their route, that being about as far west as they can go in these United states. The W.C.T.U. are a goodly number. They have a reading room and library well patronized. There is no Niagara with its beautiful scenery here, and we are wishing for a string of those toothsome fish that are being caught from its cold waters at Youngstown. The tributaries of the Missouri that run through this and adjacent counties, do not abound in fish of any size. The sportsman need not bring the "rod and line," but perhaps the lack is made up in the abundance of rabbits, plover, and quail, that you see at every turn. If I have not wearied you I will talk to you again some day. Yours, Julia S. Nichols, Pawnee City, Pawnee County, Nebraska, June 20th, 1883. (Vee here again. Now was that a personal testimonial that relates to Niagara County and to the overall settlement of our country or what? :-) vee from Youngstown