My great grandfather Nineveh Ford kept a detailed record of his travel across the Oregon Trail.  Unfortunately it was lost when his house burned.

      My old aunt Rachel kept a journal.  At the close of each day she set down a complete and exact account of everything that had happened during that day's travel, not just the things that concerned her, or her family or her family's special friends.  Aunt was wide awake and splendidly animated. She was interested in everything that interested anyone of our entire emigration.  It was easy for her to know people and her wisdom and her well known readiness to help in any emergency made them come to her with their troubles, or their joys as the case might be.

 
     She was very apt to know just about everything that happened.  It was easy, too, for her to keep her own counsel and I suspect that many things that none of the rest of the grown-ups even dreamed of, was carefully recorded in the big, sheepskin covered book. No one was allowed to even peek at it.  Aunt Rachel said "NO!"  So everyone who knew her at all, was far too wise to try.

     We came to a stop after a long hot day.  Someone had killed a buffalo and Mother had rendered out a kettle of the fat.  She set it to cool in a safe place under the wagon tongue.  Perhaps she never noticed Aunt Rachel's diary, maybe it was not there then, which is more likely, for Aunt was apt to keep an eye on it.  If Aunt placed it on the wagon tongue later, it is quite likely that she never noticed the big kettle of hot fat directly below it.  Someone, seeing neither the diary nor the kettle of grease, moved the wagon tongue.  How the book sizzled as it went in!  Aunt grabbed it out again, scattering the greasy mess in every direction.  She had it out in time to save all but the  back and the margin of the pages.  She did not get it out in time, however to save it from a silly title.  From that time on everyone in our emigration laughed and joked about Rachel Matheny's "History of Grease".