[This is the story of three brothers of my great-great grandmother who went to California for the Gold Rush and back again. It was published in four parts in the Weldon (Illinois) Record in 1905. It is an amalgam of reminiscences of all three brothers, not of any particular one. The copy I have was typed by someone, probably my grandmother, from the original – there are some obvious transcription mistakes, others could have been in the original. I have made some comments and obvious corrections in square brackets.]

I kept no diary in crossing the plains, or while I remained in California on the way back; but I think I can remember most of the important points. At that time I thought this would be the most eventful part of my life, but one thing has followed another in quick succession ‘till now, I am almost at the end of the row and still there is something to tackle almost continually that comes up unexpectedly.

Three brothers, Jonathan H. [1824-1910], Mark D. [1826-1908], and John N. [1827-1906] Manlove (age 25, 23, 22 years respectively,) are the party starting overland for gold to California in ’49. This entire sketch was not written by one, but some from each for their niece Addie A. Borum [1859-1938, daughter of my great-great grandmother’s sister, Ann].

First part of the journey

First part of the journey

We left [Shawnee] Mound, Tippecanoe County, Indiana, the last of March in a wagon, took a steamboat [to] Attica on the Wabash, and went to Evansville then changed to another boat and went to St. Louis, stayed there a week or two, met an old friend, Rufus Leet, who was making up a company to cross the plains. We bought four mules and outfit. We went up the Missouri River by boat which had many mishaps, but were safely landed at St.Joe. As it was [too] early to start across the plains, we camped there several weeks.

St. Louis in 1850

St. Louis in 1850

St. Joe was a lively town that year; there were hundreds of people camped there a month, before the grass was good on the plains. There were all kinds of people from all parts of the country – gamblers, thieves and a few honest men. Large droves of mules were landed there and all manner of outfitting material for the plains. Old trappers, Indian traders, and fighters were there. You would hear the plains talked morning, noon and night. A great many went back from here. Some became discouraged over the prospect of a hard trip. Some got drunk and fooled away their money. Some went back to their sweethearts.

St. Joseph in 1858

St. Joe in 1858 — painting by Hermann Meyer

There were some companies that had been made up in eastern cities, that had not been used to handling horses and breaking mules. We were often amused watching them. It was better than a theatre. I recollect one company in particular that had been made up in Cincinnati. They each paid in three hundred dollars, and three men were to take the money, manage the whole affair, pay all bills, and have whatever was left for their trouble. They bought a boatload of unbroken mules, then quarreled. The company broke up, most of them lost their money. People never fully know each other until they have lived in camp together.

Finally the time came to start – May tenth, there were three brothers of us, our wagon, and three men from St. Louis, splendid good fellows; they had a first class outfit so we started together. They were loaded [too] heavy, couldn’t handle their team very well, so they stuck in the mud at almost every slough. We helped them out the best we could. At night we were only four miles on our journey. The second was little better and in the afternoon they let their team break the wagon and stuck in the mud. They told us to go on and they would give up and not go to California. We went on along up the [north] side of the Missouri to Savannah, landing [forty] miles below Council Bluffs, Iowa. We crossed the river on a good ferry. From there on we were in the “Red Mans Country,” and had to watch our mules continually to keep the Indians from stealing them.

Fifty miles out we joined a company we had arranged to go with; they had started at another point on the frontier. It was now May 17th, here we took into our mess Harvey [O’Melveny] of southern Illinois, of much notoriety in the sixties. [At one point, after returning to Illinois, he was a candidate for the U.S. Senate seat vacated when Stephen A. Douglas died, but lost in the Democratic caucus by two votes.]

There were four of us to one wagon. We had made the mistake that nearly everybody had made that year – of taking twice as much as was needed, and many things we did not need. We were now in company of fifty or sixty men. We organized by electing a captain and started promptly next morning. The roads were bad.

After we had been out about a week, there came a violent storm at night, blew down the tents, wet everything. Next morning the thermometer was down to freezing. The wind blew at the rate of thirty miles an hour; no wood in camp, no timber in sight, no wind brakes, the mules and horses were almost chilled to death. They were so cold they would not eat. Many long faces, and no comforts in camp. [Six] of us volunteered to go after wood on foot, six miles to a cedar canyon, got back to camp about two in the afternoon, each of us carrying a big load of dry cedar. The wind had slackened and we fixed a windbrake, built a big fire, had a good dinner, all got dry and all felt better.

Next morning we started off in good shape and good spirits. About ten o’clock we came to a stream too small to be printed in the guide book, but the first team that tried to cross had two drowned and we pulled the others out, and that afternoon we were able to cross, the stream having subsided. We then traveled up Platte river on the south side. The bottoms are from one to ten miles wide, and level as a floor. The river is wide, swift, and very muddy. The water seemed to be full of moving sand. We were then in sight of Chimney Rock [in western Nebraska]. That evening a lone buffalo came across the river in sight of camp. Some of the boys chased him around a few miles, and killed him close to camp.

Chimney Rock, Nebraska

Chimney Rock, Nebraska

Game was plentiful, saw antelope and wolves every day. The Pawnee Indians had a village near the river. They built the best winter quarters of any Indians on the plains. There was a [pattern?] of cornstalks here, that was the only sign of Indian farming that we saw on the whole trip. The Pawnees were hiding from a large number of Sioux warriors who were scouring the country, and bragging they were going to kill all the Pawnees that were left. These tribes were always enemies but both claimed friendship to the whites. Some of our company found a young Pawnee, who was nearly starved. They tried to feed it but it would not eat, and tried to get away all the time, as a wild animal would do.

Chimney Rock was several miles south of the road, when we were opposite it. Several of us went out one morning to see it. It is composed of soft rock seams or cracks down the sides. It had once been a mountain peak that seems to have raised out of the plains, and having tumbled away leaving the center standing.

By hard traveling we reached camp that night. Some men from an Iowa camp went out also, as they were almost to camp on their return, a storm came up. They thought it a summer shower, one man took off his clothes to take a shower bath. It turned out to be hail instead of rain. As he was in sight of camp he went by the name of “shower bath” from that time on.

We got across the South Platte without much trouble, and traveled on the south side of North Platte. The roads were good – in fact there was [no?] mud on the road to California, except on the first part.

Fort Laramie is the next place of note, five hundred miles out. It was built by traders and trappers for protection against Indians. It is built of sun dried brick eight or ten feet high, four feet square, taking in ground enough so the dwelling and store are inside. The stock is also penned in when there is danger. The stock here had been wintered on the range, and not been fed, and were in good condition. Traveling west from the Mississippi, one comes to grasses of different kinds and quality from Indiana. It retains its strength better through the winter.

Fort Laramie, 1850

Fort Laramie, 1850

From there the road is strewn with flour, bacon, mining tools, cooking utensils, sheet iron stoves, horse shoes, kegs of powder, quantities of lead, and all other things connected with an outfit; people are just beginning to be in traveling shape. There are still lots turning back. The company we started with split up a few days after we started, our part consisting of six wagons. Of these, three had dropped out at different times, our three staying together from Ft. Laramie to South Pass.

After we left the fort, we passed over thirty or forty miles of country, different from anything we had seen. Old trappers called it “Black Hills”, it is rolling, the hills covered with small pine; no underbrush with rattling streams between the hills; running over gravely beds; the prettiest place in America.