I pretty nearly know that Virginia would have killed herself that night on the prairie by the Old Ridge Road, because of a sudden feeling of terror, at the situation in which she was left, at the prairies and the wild desolate road, at Buck Gowdy, at life in general--if she had had any means with which to destroy her life.

I know that Buck Gowdy took her into the house and comforted her by telling her that he would care for her, and send her back to Kentucky.
* * * * * A funeral by the wayside! This was my first experience with a kind of tragedy which was not quite so common as you might think.

Buckner Gowdy instead of giving his wife a grave by the road, as many did, sent the man of the house back to Dubuque for a hearse, the women laid out the corpse, and after a whole day of waiting, the hearse came, and went back over the road down the Indian trail through the bluffs to some graveyard in the old town by the river.

Virginia Royall sat in the back seat of the carriage with Buckner Gowdy, and the darky, Pinckney Johnson--we all knew him afterward--drove solemnly along wearing white gloves which he had found somewhere.

Virginia shrank away over to her own side of the seat as if trying to get as far from Buckner Gowdy as possible.
The movers moved on, leaving me four of their cows instead of two of mine, and I went diligently to work breaking them to the yoke.