I hope you are well. It has been almost two months since I have left Springfield, Illinois. Had not the departure day been beautiful, with cherry blossoms waving gracefully. And the heavy stately oaks of our home curving beautifully in. In April, the apple blossoms were at its most breathtaking sights. And as I stepped out of my house, probably for the last time, I took a long, good look at the magnificent curves of the doorway. The sun was up and the children chattered and played as they ate on the soft grass underfoot. I stood there, in my new lace traveling dress, with a nice shawl and blue lace parasol, and watched as my older brothers, John and Brent helped my father to load our wagon, going west and leaving behind Springfield forever. My mother was standing under the heavy oaks, their heavy branches hanging aloft as my mother took last minute hugs and kisses. The trees started to rustle, and the grass, shake. I wondered how I could ever leave this place, my home for so many years, for a land far away.

But now, I'm on the prairie with my new friends, out on the trail gathering flowers, bluebells, larkspur, and verbena. Soon, I shall go in my wagon and sew a new velvet gown for Emily, the doll I brought along. Mama sits all day in the wagon on a spring chair and knits or sews. You see, my Mama came from England, her grandfather a lord. She always has good stories to tell about the lush green, hilly land she lived before she came to America to marry Papa. The stories about her first pony, and the dresses and Social life she has missed since then. From her stories, I can always see England, its manors and castles, the Kings and Queens we have fought so hard to out-rule. I have pride in my ancestry and I do love those stories. So when Mama speaks, her words few but well chosen, were able to describe England in the eyes of a young girl. She misses England often, and sometimes finds comfort in me, being her only daughter. We are going to California mainly for her, so the green hills and flowers we have heard so much about would remind her more of her childhood home. She is happy sometimes when I play the piano for her. She has a beautiful voice that nobody can match and whenever we get lonely or bored, I just step up to the ancient instrument and soon, a smile of joy spreads through her face.

Sometimes, I go out and play with other little girls. Many of them are quite nice. One of my new friends is Jane Donner. Her sister Leana is also quite friendly. They spend the whole day out on the prairie picking flowers. Leana has beautiful hair, blondish golden, not like mine, dark silky brown with curls at the ends. Sometimes, I stop and weve flowers in Leana's hair. Many times, Jane Donner comes in our wagon and arranges some of her flowers in a vase in our wagon. She is such a sweet girl. The bonquets smell so sweet of the prairie air. Patty Reed has extremely mischievous brothers, always getting muddy before dinner, But Patty has such a nice Grandmother. Patty's grandmother was a Kentucky pioneer. She tells stories of their journey through the Cumberland gap when she was a little girl. The tales of Indian attacks and food shortages make me shiver in my skin.

During the day, the trail is dusty and full of misquotes. But the views are magnificent as I look out of our wagon. Nothing but miles and miles of the prairie. The green grass touches the blue sky, forming a beautiful horizon. Each morning, I'm always awakened by the smell of bacon, biscuits, and butter. The sky is always pure blue, and the spring air smells delicious of honeysuckle as we sit down on white linens for breakfast. I would then put on a shawl and skip along to play with the other girls. Lunch comes quickly and quietly. There is bread, cheese, beans and meat. After the dishes are cleared, I go in the wagon and knit and talk with Mama. The movements of the needle come mechanically and smoothly. If the night is dry, the men build a big campfire and everybody gathers around it. We sing songs and sometimes somebody tunes up his fiddle and we dance the Virginia reel. After we come back into our wagons, I rest my head on the pillows and look up into the sky and say my prayers. I know that God is in the glittering star above us, leading the way to California.

I miss you so much and I am sure you miss me the same. I still don't know if I have the courage to go on. All I know is that California is a place of sunshine and flowers. I hope that one day, I will see you again. But I am sure I won't forget you and Springfield. Only God knows what awaits us. Write to me soon, and may God Bless You!
 

Your affectionate friend,

Elizabeth Robbiliard