May 14, 1866
It’s already May. We are arriving in Eclipse, Texas tomorrow. The train was uncomfortable, the stage coach barbaric. I must remember not to think things can’t get worse~ each time I do, fate proves me wrong.
May 16, 1866
This place is so different than Boston. There are no green lawns, or graceful houses. Everything is red dirt and wind. I hate it already.
How can father think of moving us here?