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Updated: June 9, 2025
The average time of these two performances was barely half that required by the Butterfield stage over the Southern route. The pony had clipped ten full days from the schedule of its predecessor, and shown that it could keep its schedule which was as follows: From St. Joseph to Salt Lake City 124 hours. From Salt Lake City to Carson City 218 hours, from starting point.
"Thankee, miss; you're very kind for your size, I'm sure," said he gratefully. "It isn't everyone who knows the road to Butterfield," Dorothy remarked as she tripped along the lane; "but I've driven there many a time with Uncle Henry, and so I b'lieve I could find it blindfolded." "Don't do that, miss," said the shaggy man earnestly; "you might make a mistake." "I won't," she answered, laughing.
I did not then understand what he meant; but as his manner was kind, I congratulated myself on escaping the upbraiding I expected from him, at all events. Captain Mason having much business to get through, rose to take his leave, when Mr Butterfield expressed his desire to repay him for the trouble and expense he had been put to on my account.
"Well, Mis' Graham, you can't say I ain't warned you." "No, Mis' Butterfield, I can't," Lizzie responded; and the two old friends parted stiffly. The word that Lizzie Graham "poor as Job's turkey!" was going to marry Nathaniel May spread like grass fire through Jonesville. Mrs. Butterfield preserved a cold silence, for her distress was great.
The Butterfield stage and all other overland travel to California by the southern route before the railroads were built, went through Apache Pass. Although it was the worst Indian infested section in the southwest, travelers chose that dangerous route in preference to any other for the sake of the water that they knew could always be found there.
Lizzie's elbow was on her knee, her chin in her hand; she was listening to the peace, and thinking not anxiously, but seriously. "But I can do it," Lizzie said to herself, and set her lips hard together. The gate clicked shut, and Mrs. Butterfield came in, running almost. "Look here, Lizzie Graham, oh my! wait till I get my breath; Lizzie, you can't do it.
Butterfield was dead, and her niece Lyddy Ann living in the cottage on the river road. There were numbers of people who had not yet heard that old Mrs.
I longed to say, "I thought, sir, you were going to talk to my aunt about my going to sea;" but before I could speak, Mr Butterfield, turning round, walked into his private office and left me standing by myself and looking, I felt, very foolish.
She was confounded at the novelty of the situation, and still more at the uncultivated rudeness of her lover, which even exceeded her expectation. This confusion was interpreted by Grimes into diffidence. "Come, come, never be cast down. Put a good face upon it. What though? My first sweetheart was Bet Butterfield, but what of that? What must be must be; grief will never fill the belly.
The place was given to Justin Butterfield of Chicago. It was a severe disappointment to Lincoln.
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