She brought a mail for Fort Winnebago, it being only in the winter season that letters were carried by land to that place, via _Niles's Settlement_ and Chicago.
In virtue of his office as Postmaster, my husband opened the mail-bag, and took possession of his own letters.

One informed him of the satisfactory appearance at the Department of the missing accounts, but oh! sad disappointment, another brought the news that my parents had gone to Kentucky for the winter--not to any city or accessible place, but "up the Sandy," and over among the mountains of Virginia, hunting up old land-claims belonging to my grandfather's estate.
It was vain to hope to follow them.

We might hardly expect to find them during the short period we could be absent from home--not even were we to receive the lucid directions once given my father by an old settler during his explorations through that wild region.
"You must go up _Tug_," said the man, "and down _Troublesome_, and fall over on to _Kingdom-come_."[51] We did not think it advisable to undertake such an expedition, and therefore made up our minds to retrace our steps to Fort Winnebago.
No boats were in readiness to ascend the river.

Our old friend Hamilton promised to have one in preparation at once, but time passed by, and no boat was made ready.
It was now the beginning of November.

We were passing our time very pleasantly with the Irwins and Whitneys, and at the residence of Colonel Stambaugh, the Indian Agent, but still this delay was inconvenient and vexatious.
I suggested undertaking the journey on horseback.