Tucked away in old trunks, desks, and bookcases in countless homes are stories of the pioneers who made the American West what it is today. These journals tend to be terse, matter-of-fact ("Our son John died last night of inflammation of the bowels. Buried near Fort Bridger."), the kind of simple honesty that led to this collection. The author remembers the guilty pleasure he felt when first reading this journal entry: "Sharpened ax this morning. Wife died this afternoon." A sad moment, but amusing in the unintended irony that rivals the best remembered J. Golden Kimball tales. Sometimes the humor is less subtle, such as when a forgetful Danish bishop finally said at a wedding, "I now pronounce you fadder und modder."