On the next morning we rode to Fort Leavenworth. Colonel, now
General, Kearny, to whom I had had the honor of an introduction when
at St. Louis, was just arrived, and received us at his headquarters
with the high-bred courtesy habitual to him. Fort Leavenworth is in
fact no fort, being without defensive works, except two block-houses.
No rumors of war had as yet disturbed its tranquillity. In the
square grassy area, surrounded by barracks and the quarters of the
officers, the men were passing and repassing, or lounging among the
trees; although not many weeks afterward it presented a different
scene; for here the very off-scourings of the frontier were
congregated, to be marshaled for the expedition against Santa Fe.
Passing through the garrison, we rode toward the Kickapoo village,
five or six miles beyond. The path, a rather dubious and uncertain
one, led us along the ridge of high bluffs that bordered the
Missouri; and by looking to the right or to the left, we could enjoy
a strange contrast of opposite scenery. On the left stretched the
prairie, rising into swells and undulations, thickly sprinkled with
groves, or gracefully expanding into wide grassy basins of miles in
extent; while its curvatures, swelling against the horizon, were
often surmounted by lines of sunny woods; a scene to which the
freshness of the season and the peculiar mellowness of the atmosphere
gave additional softness. Below us, on the right, was a tract of
ragged and broken woods.
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