Letter from William Denison Lyman on the weather, family, and travel

Kellogg, July 27
Dear Sarah,

I have been enjoying my stay in Kellogg extremely. My mind has been too much occupied during the most of my absence this far to feel much of the homesickness which used something to barrow up my soul. This is not said to disparage the claims of home, of course.To day we have been having a tremendous rain.

Young rivers have gone meandering over the land, and the loose black soil has assumed the appearance of pudding. Just at this moment, the sun is bursting through the clouds, and the prospect of clearing off is very good. To my grief, there have been no remarkable electrical displays thus far.

The hardest thunder shower I have seen was on the desert plain of Wyoming. The telegraph poles were shivered, several of them and the dry land became pools of water. Our ordinary language is most too prolix and long-drawn for vivd descriptions. Where the imaginations of people become sufficiently cultured, I can conceive of characters varied a little in color and shape standing for whole pages is of ever present descriptions. This branch of the Lyman family is a very interesting one.

Some of them, Emily and Fred in particular have had to endure a terrible accruement of disappointment in their place for life, but they seem to bear it with great patience.

Uncle A. also has been bitterly disappointed in regard to his work in the church.

He feels much as I suppose father did in regard to leaving for Portland. Theresa is an extremely good girl; she has rather a hard time of it, since in the illness of both her mother and Emily, most of the work {fell} on her.

They don’t seem to have very congenial neighbors.

Kellogg is a beautifully situated place and one of some local importance, but that is about all. There seems to be no literary atmosphere at all, and, in fact, although the town is in the East, it is much inferior in most respects to certain Oregon towns. Theresa is an excellent singer and plays well although they have nothing but a small melodeon. She is the chorister and also organist in the church, but seems to have almost as much trouble in collecting her singers as Mrs. Ellis has. They have a poor church, and not at all a remarkable preacher, though he seemed thoroughly in earnest.

I expect to leave here tomorrow: my present plan is to stop in Moline a half day and see cousin Mary. Uncle A. said that if I were disposed to stop here for two weeks or so that he could give me work in the hay-field, but I concluded that a delay of that length of time would destroy the likelihood of getting a school, and at the same time would not amount to enough pay for doing next winter.

Besides, owing to my poverty, I purchased as cheap a ticket as possible, and in consequence, my time is limited. I could not sell the ticket here.

I don’t know that I felt and wonderful change thus far in my mental grasp induced by my extended travels, although my view of the American Continent are very much clarified. It seems much like a dream, (though I will not weary you with another bird’s-eye view of my journey) since I left home.

It seems to me incredible that I left home not quite three weeks ago. I should suppose it to be almost six months.

I have been a little disappointed in the cities in the East which I have seen thus far, though Des Moines is rather a nice looking place. Omaha is not near as fine a place as Portland, though ahead in population. I presume that the magnificence of San Francisco will spoil everything until I reach Chicago.

It doesn’t take long to go anywhere after one reaches Omaha. I shall leave here at 3 o’clock in the afternoon and get to Moline at ten in the evening. Then leave there at ten the next day and reach Chicago at about five in the afternoon.

I concluded to take only ten dollars of the money in Uncle A’s possession; I think I shall next need it as much you do. I can get the draft cashed whenever I wish.

I have half a notion to make inquiry where in Moline in regard to work.

Mary’s husband is working there and it may be that I shall find something there which will pay better than school-teaching.

Well I must close. I suppose that you are still at Astoria, though you may be at home before this reaches you.

Good by for this time. You may as well direct your letters to Kalamazoo.

Willie