There is so cool a breeze at all times on the plains that the sun does
not feel so hot as one would suppose.

We are now four hundred and fifty miles from Independence. Our route at
first was rough, and through a timbered country, which appeared to be
fertile. After striking the prairie, we found a first-rate road, and the
only difficulty we have had, has been in crossing the creeks. In that,
however, there has been no danger.

I never could have believed we could have traveled so far with so
little difficulty. The prairie between the Blue and the Platte rivers is
beautiful beyond description. Never have I seen so varied a country, so
suitable for cultivation. Everything was new and pleasing; the Indians
frequently come to see us, and the chiefs of a tribe breakfasted at
our tent this morning. All are so friendly that I can not help feeling
sympathy and friendship for them. But on one sheet what can I say?

Since we have been on the Platte, we have had the river on one side
and the ever varying mounds on the other, and have traveled through the
bottom lands from one to two miles wide, with little or no timber.
The soil is sandy, and last year, on account of the dry season, the
emigrants found grass here scarce. Our cattle are in good order, and
when proper care has been taken, none have been lost. Our milch cows
have been of great service, indeed. They have been of more advantage
than our meat. We have plenty of butter and milk.

We are commanded by Captain Russell, an amiable man. George Donner
is himself yet. He crows in the morning and shouts out, "Chain up,
boys--chain up," with as much authority as though he was "something in
particular." John Denton is still with us. We find him useful in the
camp. Hiram Miller and Noah James are in good health and doing well. We
have of the best people in our company, and some, too, that are not so
good.

Buffaloes show themselves frequently.

We have found the wild tulip, the primrose, the lupine, the eardrop, the
larkspur, and creeping hollyhock, and a beautiful flower resembling the
bloom of the beech tree, but in bunches as large as a small sugar-loaf,
and of every variety of shade, to red and green.

I botanize, and read some, but cook "heaps" more. There are four hundred
and twenty wagons, as far as we have heard, on the road between here and
Oregon and California.

Give our love to all inquiring friends. God bless them. Yours, truly,

Mrs. George Donner.

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