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The Oregon Trail: sketches of prairie and Rocky-Mountain life by Francis Parkman
page 93 of 393 (23%)
there. Not one of their missing oxen had been recovered, though they had
remained encamped a week in search of them; and they had been compelled
to abandon a great part of their baggage and provisions, and yoke cows
and heifers to their wagons to carry them forward upon their journey,
the most toilsome and hazardous part of which lay still before them.

It is worth noticing that on the Platte one may sometimes see the
shattered wrecks of ancient claw-footed tables, well waxed and rubbed,
or massive bureaus of carved oak. These, many of them no doubt
the relics of ancestral prosperity in the colonial time, must have
encountered strange vicissitudes. Imported, perhaps, originally from
England; then, with the declining fortunes of their owners, borne across
the Alleghenies to the remote wilderness of Ohio or Kentucky; then to
Illinois or Missouri; and now at last fondly stowed away in the family
wagon for the interminable journey to Oregon. But the stern privations
of the way are little anticipated. The cherished relic is soon flung out
to scorch and crack upon the hot prairie.

We resumed our journey; but we had gone scarcely a mile, when R. called
out from the rear:

"We'll camp here."

"Why do you want to camp? Look at the sun. It is not three o'clock yet."

"We'll camp here!"

This was the only reply vouchsafed. Delorier was in advance with his
cart. Seeing the mule-wagon wheeling from the track, he began to turn
his own team in the same direction.
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