"The great audience joined in singing the opening stanzas, but soon they began to drop out by ones and scores, and sobs were heard all over the audience. The last stanza was sung by one voice alone in a clear, sweet soprano, and not a faulty note; it was the voice of Narcissa Whitman."
It was the last time her old friends heard the sweet voice, for daylight found them braving the winter storm on their way to Oregon.
The late Eli G. Coe, of Illinois, then a young man, drove them in his sleigh to the mountains, en route to Pittsburg, where they were to take boat for St. Louis. He has given me a delightful sketch of the journey, upon which he marks Whitman "The Silent Man, ever thoughtful of all his guests," and Mrs. Whitman, "The lovely little woman who was the life of the company, who often dispelled gloom, and made all forget the winter cold, by a song of cheer."
Their route was from Pittsburg down the Ohio River to the Mississippi up to St. Louis, thence up the Missouri River to near where Fort Leavenworth now stands. The journey had no mishaps until they reached "The Big Muddy," as the Missouri has long been called. Those who navigated it half and three-quarters of a century ago, will never forget the journey. It was sand bars on sand bars, forever shifting with each freshet, and snags galore! The engineer stood constantly at his lever, to answer the bell, a leadsman stood
