OUR camp is in a beautiful pine grove, just above the Upper Falls and close to the rapids; from out tent we can look out on the foaming river as it rushes from one big rock to another. Far from the bank on an immense boulder that is almost surrounded by water is perched my tent companion, Miss Hayes. She says the view from there is grand, but how she can have the nerve to go over the wet, slippery rocks is a mystery to all of us, for by one little misstep she would be swept over the falls and to eternity.

Our party consists of Captain and Mrs. Spencer, I their little niece, Miss Hayes, and myself--oh, yes, Lottie, the colored cook, and six or eight soldiers. We have part of the transportation that Major General Schofield used for this same trip two weeks ago, and which we found waiting for us at Mammoth Hot Springs. We also have two saddle horses. By having tents and our own transportation we can remain as long as we wish at any one place, and can go to many out-of-the-way spots that the regular tourist does not even hear of. But I do not intend to weary you with long descriptions of the park, the wonderful geysers, or the exquisitely tinted water in many of the springs, but to tell you of our trip, that has been most enjoyable from the very minute we left Livingstone.

We camped one night by the Fire-Hole River, where there is a spring I would like to carry home with me! The water is very hot--boils up a foot or so all the year round, and is so buoyant that in a porcelain tub of ordinary depth we found it difficult to do otherwise than float, and its softening effect upon the skin is delightful. A pipe has been laid from the spring to the little hotel, where it is used for all sorts of household purposes. Just fancy having a stream of water that a furnace somewhere below has brought to boiling heat, running through your house at any and all times. They told us that during the winter when everything is frozen, all kinds of wild animals come to drink at the overflow of the spring. There are hundreds of hot springs in the park, I presume, but that one at Marshall's is remarkable for the purity of its water.

Captain Spencer sent to the hotel for fresh meat and was amazed when the soldier brought back, instead of meat, a list from which he was asked to select. At that little log hotel of ten or twelve rooms there were seven kinds of meat--black-tail deer, white-tail deer, bear, grouse, prairie chicken, squirrels, and domestic fowl--the latter still in possession of their heads. Hunting in the park is prohibited, and the proprietor of that fine game market was most careful to explain to the soldier that everything had been brought from the other side of the mountain. That was probably true, but nevertheless, just as we were leaving the woods by "Hell's Half Acre," and were coming out on a beautiful meadow surrounded by a thick forest, we saw for one instant a deer standing on the bank of a little stream at our right, and then it disappeared in the forest. Captain Spencer was on horseback, and happening to look to the left saw a man skulking to the woods with a rifle in his hand. The poor deer would undoubtedly have been shot if we had been a minute or two later.

For two nights our camp was in the pine forest back of "Old Faithful," and that gave us one whole day and afternoon with the geysers. Our colored cook was simply wild over them, and would spend hours looking down in the craters of those that were not playing. Those seemed to fascinate her above all things there, and at times she looked like a wild African when she returned to camp from one of them. Not far from the tents of the enlisted men was a small hot spring that boiled lazily in a shallow basin. It occurred to one of the men that it would make a fine laundry, so he tied a few articles of clothing securely to a stick and swished them up and down in the hot sulphur water and then hung them up to dry. Another soldier, taking notice of the success of that washing, decided to do even better, so he gathered all the underwear, he had with him, except those he had on, and dropped them down in the basin. He used the stick, but only to push them about with, and alas! did not fasten them to it. They swirled about for a time, and then all at once every article disappeared, leaving the poor man in dumb amazement. He sat on the edge of the spring until dark, watching and waiting for his clothes to return to him; but come back they did not. Some of the men watched with him, but most of them teased him cruelly. Such a loss on a trip like this was great.

When we got to Obsidian Mountain, Miss Hayes and I decided that we would like to go up a little distance and get a few specimens to carry home with us. Our camp for the night was supposed to be only one mile farther on, and the enlisted men and two wagons were back of us, so we thought we could safely stay there by ourselves. The so-called mountain is really only a foothill to a large mountain, but is most interesting from the fact that it is covered with pieces of obsidian, mostly smoke-color, and that long ago Indians came there for arrowheads.

A very narrow road has been cut out of the rocks at the base of the mountain, and about four feet above a small stream. It has two very sharp turns, and all around, as far as we could see, it would be exceedingly dangerous, if not impossible, for large wagons to pass. Miss Hayes and I went on up, gathering and rejecting pieces of obsidian that had probably been gathered and rejected by hundreds of tourists before us, and we were laughing and having a beautiful time when, for some reason, I looked back, and down on the point where the road almost doubles on itself I saw an old wagon with two horses, and standing by the wagon were two men. They were looking at us, and very soon one beckoned. I looked all around, thinking that some of their friends must certainly be near us, but no one was in sight. By that time one man was waving his hat to us, and then they actually called, "Come on down here--come down, it is all right!"

Miss Hayes is quite deaf, and I was obliged to go around rocks before I could get near enough to tell her of the wagon below, and the men not hear me. She gave the men and wagon an indifferent glance, and then went on searching for specimens. I was so vexed I could have shaken her. She will scream over a worm or spider, and almost faint at the sight of a snake, but those two men, who were apparently real tramps, she did not mind. The situation was critical, and for just one instant I thought hard. If we were to go over the small mountain we would probably be lost, and might encounter all sorts of wild beasts, and if those men were really vicious they could easily overtake us. Besides, it would never do to let them suspect that we were afraid. So I decided to go down--and slowly down I went, almost dragging Miss Hayes with me. She did not understand my tactics, and I did not stop to explain.

I went right to the men, taking care to get between them and the road to camp. I asked them if they were in trouble of any kind, and they said "No." I could hardly control my voice, but it seemed important that I should give them to understand at once who we were. So I said, "Did you meet our friends in the army ambulance just down the road?" The two looked at each other and then one said "Yes!" I continued with, "There are two very large and heavily loaded army wagons, and a number of soldiers coming down the other road that should be here right now." They smiled again, and said something to each other, but I interrupted with, "I do not see how those big wagons and four mules can pass you here, and it seems to me you had better get out of their way, for soldiers can be awfully cross if things are not just to suit them."

Well, those two men got in the old wagon without saying one word and started on, and we watched them until they had disappeared from sight around a bend, and then I said to Miss Hayes, "Come!" and lifting my skirts, I started on the fastest run I ever made in my life, and I kept it up until I actually staggered. Then I sat upon a rock back of some bushes and waited for Miss Hayes, who appeared after a few minutes. We rested for a short time and then went on and on, and still there was nothing to be seen of the meadow where the camp was supposed to be. Finally, after we had walked miles, it seemed to us, we saw an opening far ahead, and the sharp silhouette of a man under the arch of trees, and when we reached the end of the wooded road we found Captain Spencer waiting for us. He at once started off on a fine inspection-day reprimand, but I was tired and cross and reminded him that it was he who had told us that the camp would be only one mile from us, and if we had not listened to him we would not have stopped at all. Then we all laughed!

Captain and Mrs. Spencer had become worried, and the ambulance was just starting back for us when fortunately we appeared. Miss Hayes cannot understand yet why I went down to that wagon. The child does not fear tramps and desperadoes, simply because she has never encountered them. Whether my move was wise or unwise, I knew that down on the road we could run--up among the rocks we could not. Besides, I have the satisfaction of knowing that once in my life I outgeneraled a man--two men--and whether they were friends or foes I care not now. I was wearing an officer's white cork helmet at the time, and possibly that helped matters a little. But why did they call to us--why beckon for us to come down? It was my birthday too. That evening Mrs. Spencer made some delicious punch and brought out the last of the huge fruit cake she made for the trip. We had bemoaned the fact of its having all been eaten, and all the time she had a piece hidden away for my birthday, as a great surprise.

We have had one very stormy day. It began to rain soon after we broke camp in the morning, not hard, but in a cold, penetrating drizzle. Captain and Mrs. Spencer were riding that day and continued to ride until luncheon, and by that time they were wet to the skin and shaking from the cold. We were nearing the falls, the elevation was becoming greater and the air more chilling every minute. We had expected to reach the Yellowstone River that day, but it was so wet and disagreeable that Captain Spencer decided to go into camp at a little spring we came to in the early afternoon, and which was about four miles from here. The tents were pitched just above the base of a hill--you would call it a mountain in the East--and in a small grove of trees. The ground was thickly carpeted with dead leaves, and everything looked most attractive from the ambulance.

When Miss Hayes and I went to our tent, however, to arrange it, we found that underneath that thick covering of leaves a sheet of water was running down the side of the hill, and with every step our feet sank down almost ankle deep in the wet leaves and water. Each has a little iron cot, and the two had been set up and the bedding put upon them by the soldiers, and they looked so inviting we decided to rest a while and get warm also. But much to our disgust we found that our mattresses were wet and all of our blankets more or less wet, too. It was impossible to dry one thing in the awful dampness, so we folded the blankets with the dry part on top as well as we could, and then "crawled in." We hated to get up for dinner, but as we were guests, we felt that we must do so, but for that meal we waited in vain--not one morsel of dinner was prepared that night, and Miss Hayes and I envied the enlisted men when we got sniffs of their boiling coffee. Only a soldier could have found dry wood and a place for making coffee that night.

When it is at all wet Faye always has our tents "ditched," that is, the sod turned up on the canvas all around the bottom. So just before dark I asked Captain Spencer if the men could not do that to our tent, and it was done without delay. It made a great difference in our comfort, for at once the incoming of the water was stopped. We all retired early that night, and notwithstanding our hunger, and the wet below and above us, our sleep was sound. In the morning we found several inches of snow on the ground and the whole country was white. The snow was so moist and clinging, that the small branches of trees were bent down with its weight, and the effect of the pure white on the brilliant greens was enchanting. Over all was the glorious sunshine that made the whole grand scene glisten and sparkle like fairyland. And that day was the twenty-sixth of August!

It was wretchedly cold, and our heaviest wraps seemed thin and light. Lottie gave us a nice hot breakfast, and after that things looked much more cheerful. By noon most of the snow had disappeared, and after an early luncheon we came on to these dry, piney woods, that claim an elevation of nine thousand feet. The rarefied air affects people so differently. Some breathe laboriously and have great difficulty in walking at all, while to others it is most exhilarating, and gives them strength to walk great distances. Fortunately, our whole party is of the latter class.

Yesterday morning early we all started for a tramp down the canon. I do not mean that we were in the canon by the river, for that would have been impossible, but that we went along the path that runs close to the edge of the high cliff. We carried our luncheon with us, so there was no necessity for haste, and every now and then we sat upon the thick carpet of pine needles to rest, and also study the marvelous coloring of the cliffs across the river. The walls of the canon are very high and very steep--in many places perpendicular--and their strata of brilliant colors are a marvel to everyone. It was a day to be remembered, and no one seemed to mind being a little tired when we returned late in the afternoon. The proprietor of the little log hotel that is only a short distance up the river, told Captain Spencer that we had gone down six good miles--giving us a tramp altogether, of twelve miles. It seems incredible, for not one of us could walk one half that distance in less rarefied air.

Just below the big falls, and of course very near our camp, is a nature study that we find most interesting. An unusually tall pine tree has grown up from between the boulders at the edge of the river. The tree is now dead and its long branches have fallen off, but a few outspreading short ones are still left, and right in the center of these a pair of eagles have built a huge nest, and in that nest, right now, are two dear eaglets! The tree is some distance from the top of the cliff, but it is also lower, otherwise we would not have such a fine view of the nest and the big babies. They look a little larger than mallard ducks, and are well feathered. They fill the nest to overflowing, and seem to realize that if they move about much, one would soon go overboard. The two old birds--immense in size--can be seen soaring above the nest at almost any time, but not once have we seen them come to the nest, although we have watched with much patience for them to do so. The great wisdom shown by those birds in the selection of a home is wonderful. It would be utterly impossible for man or beast to reach it.

Another nature study that we have seen in the park, and which, to me, was most wonderful, was a large beaver village. Of course most people of the Northwest have seen beaver villages of various sizes, but that one was different, and should be called a city. There were elevated roads laid off in squares that run with great precision from one little house to the other. There are dozens and dozens of houses--perhaps a hundred--in the marshy lake, and the amount of intelligence and cunning the little animals have shown in the construction of their houses and elevated roads is worth studying. They are certainly fine engineers.

We take the road home from here, but go a much more direct route, which will be by ambulance all the way to Fort Ellis, instead of going by the cars from Mammoth Hot Springs. I am awfully glad of this, as it will make the trip one day longer, and take us over a road that is new to us, although it is the direct route from Ellis to the Park through Rocky Canon.

ONLY a few days more, and then we will be off for the East! It is over seven years since we started from Corinne on that long march north, and I never dreamed at that time that I would remain right in this territory, until a splendid railroad would be built to us from another direction to take us out of it. Nearly everything is packed. We expect to return here in the spring, but in the Army one never knows what destiny may have waiting for them at the War Department. Besides, I would not be satisfied to go so far away and leave things scattered about.

The two horses, wagons, and everything of the kind have been disposed of--not because we wanted to sell them, but because Faye was unwilling to leave the horses with irresponsible persons during a long winter in this climate, when the most thoughtful care is absolutely necessary to keep animals from suffering. Lieutenant Gallagher of the cavalry bought them, and we are passing through our second experience of seeing others drive around horses we have petted, and taught to know us apart from all others. George almost broke my heart the other day. He was standing in front of Lieutenant Gallagher's quarters, that are near ours, when I happened to go out on the walk, not knowing the horses were there. He gave a loud, joyous whinnie, and started to come to me, pulling Pete and the wagon with him. I ran back to the house, for I could not go to him! He had been my own horse, petted and fed lumps of sugar every day with my own hands, and I always drove him in single harness, because his speed was so much greater than Pete's.

My almost gownless condition has been a cause of great worry to me, but Pogue has promised to fix up my wardrobe with a rush, and after the necessary time for that in Cincinnati, I will hurry on to Columbus Barracks for my promised visit to Doctor and Mrs. Gordon. Then on home! Faye will go to Cincinnati with me, and from there to the United States Naval Home, of which his father is governor at present. I will have to go there, too, before so very long.

We attended a pretty cotillon in Bozeman last evening and remained overnight at the hotel. Faye led, and was assisted by Mr. Ladd, of Bozeman. It was quite a large and elaborate affair, and there were present "the butcher, the baker, and candlestick maker." Nevertheless, everything was conducted with the greatest propriety. There are five or six very fine families in the small place--people of culture and refinement from the East--and their influence in the building up of the town has been wonderful. The first year we were at Fort Ellis one would see every now and then a number, usually four numerals, painted in bright red on the sidewalk. Everyone knew that to have been the work of vigilantes, and was a message to some gambler or horse thief to get himself out of town or stand the shotgun or rope jury. The first time I saw those red figures--I knew what they were for--it seemed as if they had been made in blood, and step over them I could not. I went out in the road around them. We have seen none of those things during the past two years, and for the sake of those who have worked so hard for law and order, we hope the desperado element has passed on.

IT is nice to be once more at this dear old post, particularly under such very pleasant circumstances. The winter East was enjoyable and refreshing from first to last, but citizens and army people have so little in common, and this one feels after being with them a while, no matter how near and dear the relationship may be. Why, one half of them do not know the uniform, and could not distinguish an officer of the Army from a policeman! I love army life here in the West, and I love all the things that it brings to me--the grand mountains, the plains, and the fine hunting. The buffalo are no longer seen; every one has been killed off, and back of Square Butte in a rolling valley, hundreds of skeletons are bleaching even now. The valley is about two miles from the post.

We are with the commanding officer and his wife, and Hulda is here also. She was in Helena during the winter and came from there with us. I am so glad to have her. She is so competent, and will be such a comfort a little later on, when there will be much entertaining for us to do. We stopped at Fort Ellis two days to see to the crating of the furniture and to get all things in readiness to be shipped here, this time by the cars instead of by wagon, through mud and water. We were guests of Captain and Mrs. Spencer, and enjoyed the visit so much. Doctor and Mrs. Lawton gave an informal dinner for us, and that was charming too.

But the grand event of the stop-over was the champagne supper that Captain Martin gave in our honor--that is, in honor of the new adjutant of the regiment. He is the very oldest bachelor and one of the oldest officers in the regiment--a very jolly Irishman. The supper was old-fashioned, with many good things to eat, and the champagne frappe was perfect. I do believe that the generous-hearted man had prepared at least two bottles for each one of us. Every member of the small garrison was there, and each officer proposed something pleasant in life for Faye, and often I was included. There was not the least harm done to anyone, however, and not a touch of headache the next day.

As usual, we are waiting for quarters to avoid turning some one out. But for a few days this does not matter much, as our household goods are not here, except the rugs and things we sent out from Philadelphia. Faye entered upon his new duties at guard mounting this morning, and I scarcely breathed until the whole thing was over and the guard was on its way to the guardhouse! It was so silly, I knew, to be afraid that Faye might make a mistake, for he has mounted the guard hundreds of times while post adjutant. But here it was different. I knew that from almost every window that looked out on the parade ground, eyes friendly and eyes envious were peering to see how the new regimental adjutant conducted himself, and I knew that there was one pair of eyes green from envy and pique, and that the least faux-pas by Faye would be sneered at and made much of by their owner. But Faye made no mistake, of course. I knew all the time that it was quite impossible for him to do so, as he is one of the very best tacticians in the regiment--still, it is the unexpected that so often happens.

The band and the magnificent drum major, watching their new commander with critical eyes, were quite enough in themselves to disconcert any man. I never told you what happened to that band once upon a time! It was before we came to the regiment, and when headquarters were at Fort Dodge, Kansas. Colonel Mills, at that time a captain, was in command. It had been customary to send down to the river every winter a detail of men from each company to cut ice for their use during the coming year. Colonel Mills ordered the detail down as usual, and also ordered the band down. It seems that Colonel Fitz-James, who had been colonel of the regiment for some time, had babied the bandsmen, one and all, until they had quite forgotten the fact of their being enlisted men.

So over to Colonel Mills went the first sergeant with a protest against cutting ice, saying that they were musicians and could not be expected to do such work, that it would chap their lips and ruin their delicate touch on the instruments. Colonel Mills listened patiently and then said, "But you like ice during the summer, don't you?" The sergeant said, "Yes, sir, but they could not do such hard work as the cutting of ice." Colonel Mills said, "You are musicians, you say?" The unsuspicious sergeant, thinking he had gained his point, smilingly said, "Yes, sir!" But there must have been an awful weakness in his knees when Colonel Mills said, "Very well, since you are musicians and cannot cut ice, you will go to the river and play for the other men while they cut it for you!" The weather was freezing cold, and the playing of brass instruments in the open air over two feet of solid ice, would have been painful and difficult, so it was soon decided that it would be better to cut ice, after all, and in a body the band went down with the other men to the river without further complaint or protest.

It is a splendid band, and has always been regarded as one of the very best in the Army, but there are a few things that need changing, which Faye will attend to as quickly as possible, and at the same time bring criticism down upon his own head. The old adjutant is still in the post, and--"eyes green" are here!

MY ride this morning was grand! My new horse is beginning to see that I am really a friend, and is much less nervous. It is still necessary, however, for Miller, our striker, to make blinders with his hands back of Rollo's eyes so he will not see me jump to the saddle, otherwise I might not get there. I mount in the yard back of the house, where no one can see me. The gate is opened first, and that the horse always stands facing, for the instant he feels my weight upon his back there is a little flinch, then a dash down the yard, a jump over the acequia, then out through the gate to the plain beyond, where he quiets down and I fix my stirrup.

There is not a bit of viciousness about this, as the horse is gentle and most affectionate at all times, but he has been terribly frightened by a saddle, and it is distressing to see him tremble and his very flesh quiver when one is put upon his back, no matter how gently. He had been ridden only three or four times when we bought him, and probably by a "bronco breaker," who slung on his back a heavy Mexican saddle, cinched it tight without mercy, then mounted with a slam over of a leather-trousered leg, let the almost crazy horse go like the wind, and if he slackened his speed, spurs or "quirt," perhaps both, drove him on again. I know only too well how the so-called breaking is done, for I have seen it many times, and the whole performance is cruel and disgraceful. There are wicked horses, of course, but there are more wicked men, and many a fine, spirited animal is ruined, made an "outlaw" that no man can ride, just by the fiendish way in which they are first ridden. But the more crazy the poor beast is made, the more fun and glory for the breaker.

Rollo is a light sorrel and a natural pacer; he cannot trot one step, and for that reason I did not want him, but Faye said that I had better try him, so he was sent up. The fact of his being an unbroken colt, Faye seemed to consider a matter of no consequence, but I soon found that it was of much consequence to me, inasmuch as I was obliged to acquire a more precise balance in the saddle because of his coltish ways, and at the same time make myself--also the horse--perfectly acquainted with the delicate give and take of bit and bridle, for with a pacer the slightest tightening or slackening at the wrong time will make him break. When Rollo goes his very fastest, which is about 2:50, I never use a stirrup and never think of a thing but his mouth! There is so little motion to his body I could almost fancy that he had no legs at all--that we are being rushed through the air by some unseen force. It is fine!

Faye has reorganized the band, and the instrumentation is entirely new. It was sent to him by Sousa, director of the Marine Band, who has been most kind and interested. The new instruments are here, so are the two new sets of uniform--one for full dress, the other for concerts and general wear. Both have white trimmings to correspond with the regiment, which are so much nicer than the old red facings that made the band look as if it had been borrowed from the artillery. All this has been the source of much comment along the officers' quarters and in the barracks across the parade ground, and has caused several skirmishes between Faye and the band. It was about talked out, however, when I came in for my share of criticism!

The post commander and Faye came over from the office one morning and said it was their wish that I should take entire charge of the music for services in church, that I could have an orchestra of soft-toned instruments, and enlisted men to sing, but that all was to be under my guidance. I must select the music, be present at all practicings, and give my advice in any way needed. At first I thought it simply a very unpleasant joke, but when it finally dawned upon me that those two men were really in earnest, I was positive they must be crazy, and that I told them. The whole proposition seemed so preposterous, so ridiculous, so everything! I shall always believe that Bishop Brewer suggested church music by the soldiers. Faye is adjutant and in command of the band, so I was really the proper person to take charge of the church musicians if anybody did, but the undertaking was simply appalling. But the commanding officer insisted and Faye insisted, and both gave many reasons for doing so. The enemy was too strong, and I was forced to give in, the principal reason being, however, that I did not want some one else to take charge!

In a short time the little choir was organized and some of the very best musicians in the band were selected for the orchestra. We have two violins (first and second), one clarinet, violoncello, oboe, and bassoon, the latter instrument giving the deep organ tones. There have been three services, and at one Sergeant Graves played an exquisite solo on the violin, "There is a green hill far away," from the oratorio of St. Paul. At another, Matijicek played Gounod's "Ave Maria" on the oboe, and last Sunday he gave us, on the clarinet, "Every valley shall be exalted." The choir proper consists of three sergeants and one corporal, and our tenor is his magnificence, the drum major!

Service is held in a long, large hall, at the rear end of which is a smaller room that can be made a part of the hall by folding back large doors. We were just inside this small room and the doors were opened wide. On a long bench sat the four singers, two each side of a very unhappy woman, and back of the bench in a half circle were the six musicians. Those musicians depended entirely upon me to indicate to them when to play and the vocalists when to sing, therefore certain signals had been arranged so that there would be no mistake or confusion. There I sat, on a hot summer morning, almost surrounded by expert musicians who were conscious of my every movement, and then, those men were soldiers accustomed to military precision, and the fear of making a mistake and leading them wrong was agonizing. At the farther end of the hall the Rev. Mr. Clark was standing, reading along in an easy, self-assured way that was positively irritating. And again, there was the congregation, each one on the alert, ready to criticise, probably condemn, the unheard-of innovation! Every man, woman, and child was at church that morning, too--many from curiosity, I expect--and every time we sang one half of them turned around and stared at us.

During the reading of the service I could not change my position, turn my head, or brush the flies that got upon my face, without those six hands back of me pouncing down for their instruments. It was impossible to sing the chants, as the string instruments could not hold the tones, so anthems were used instead--mostly Millard's--and they were very beautiful. Not one mistake has ever been made by anyone, but Sergeant Moore has vexed me much. He is our soprano, and has a clear, high-tenor voice and often sings solos in public, but for some unexplainable reason he would not sing a note in church unless I sang with him, so I had to hum along for the man's ear alone. Why he has been so frightened' I do not know, unless it was the unusual condition of things, which have been quite enough to scare anyone.

Well, I lived through the three services, and suppose I can live through more. The men are not compelled to do this church work, although not one would think of refusing. There is much rehearsing to be done, and Sergeant Graves has to transpose the hymns and write out the notes for each instrument, and this requires much work. To show my appreciation of their obedience to my slightest request, a large cake and dozens of eggs have been sent to them after each service. It is funny how nice things to eat often make it easy for a man to do things that otherwise would be impossible!

MY trip to Helena was made alone, after all! The evening before I started Mrs. Todd told me that she could not go, frankly admitting that she was afraid to go over the lonesome places on the road with only the driver for a protector. It was important that I should see a dentist, and Mrs. Averill was depending upon me to bring her friend down from Helena who was expected from the East, so I decided to go alone. The quartermaster gave me the privilege of choosing my driver, and I asked for a civilian, a rather old man who is disliked by everyone because of his surly, disagreeable manner. Just why I chose him I cannot tell, except that he is a good driver and I felt that he could be trusted. The morning we started Faye said to him, "Driver, you must take good care of Mrs. Rae, for she asked for you to drive on this trip," which must have had its effect--that, and the nice lunch I had prepared for him--for he was kind and thoughtful at all times.

It takes two days to go to Helena from here, a ride of forty-five miles one day and forty the second; and on each long drive there are stretches of miles and miles over mountains and through canons where one is far from a ranch or human being, and one naturally thinks of robbers and other unpleasant things. At such places I rode on top with the driver, where I could at least see what was going on around us.

Just before we crossed the Bird-Tail divide we came to a wonderful sight, "a sight worth seeing," the driver said; and more to gratify him than because I wanted to, we stopped. An enormous corral had been put up temporarily, and in it were thousands of sheep, so closely packed that those in the center were constantly jumping over the others, trying to find a cooler place. In the winter, when the weather is very cold, sheep will always jump from the outer circle of the band to the center, where it is warm; they always huddle together in cold weather, and herders are frequently compelled to remain right with them, nights at a time, working hard every minute separating them so they will not smother. One of the men, owner of the sheep, I presume, met us and said he would show me where to go so I could see everything that was being done, which proved to be directly back of a man who was shearing sheep. They told me that he was the very fastest and most expert shearer in the whole territory. Anyone could see that he was an expert, for three men were kept busy waiting upon him. At one corner of the corral was a small, funnel-shaped "drive," the outer opening of which was just large enough to squeeze a sheep through, and in the drive stood a man, sheep in hand, ever ready to rush it straight to the hands of the shearer the instant he was ready for it.

The shearer, who was quite a young man, sat upon a box close to the drive, and when he received a sheep it was always the same way--between his knees--and he commenced and finished the shearing of each animal exactly the same way, every clip of the large shears counting to the best advantage. They told me that he gained much time by the unvarying precision that left no ragged strips to be trimmed off. The docility of those wild sheep was astonishing. Almost while the last clip was being made the sheep was seized by a second assistant standing at the shearer's left, who at once threw the poor thing down on its side, where he quickly painted the brand of that particular ranch, after which it was given its freedom. It was most laughable to see the change in the sheep--most of them looking lean and lanky, whereas in less than one short minute before, their sides had been broad and woolly. A third man to wait upon the shearer was kept busy at his right carefully gathering the wool and stuffing it in huge sacks. Every effort was made to keep it clean, and every tiny bit was saved.

About four o'clock we reached Rock Creek, where we remained overnight at a little inn. The house is built of logs, and the architecture is about as queer as its owner. Mrs. Gates, wife of the proprietor, can be, and usually is, very cross and disagreeable, and I rather dreaded stopping there alone. But she met me pleasantly--that is, she did not snap my head off--so I gathered courage to ask for a room that would be near some one, as I was timid at night. That settled my standing in her opinion, and with a "Humph!" she led the way across a hall and through a large room where there were several beds, and opening a door on the farther side that led to still another room, she told me I could have that, adding that I "needn't be scared to death, as the boys will sleep right there." I asked her how old the boys were, and she snapped, "How old! why they's men folks," and out of the room she went. Upon looking around I saw that my one door opened into the next room, and that as soon as the "boys" occupied it I would be virtually a prisoner. To be sure, the windows were not far from the ground, and I could easily jump out, but to jump in again would require longer arms and legs than I possessed. But just then I felt that I would much prefer to encounter robbers, mountain lions, any gentle creatures of that kind, to asking Mrs. Gates for another room.

When I went out to supper that night I was given a seat at one end of a long table where were already sitting nine men, including my own civilian driver, who, fortunately, was near the end farthest from me. No one paid the slightest attention to me, each man attending to his own hungry self and trying to outdo the others in talking. Finally they commenced telling marvelous tales about horses that they had ridden and subdued, and I said to myself that I had been told all about sheep that day, and there it was about horses, and I wondered how far I would have to go to hear all sorts of things about cattle! But anything about a horse is always of interest to me, and those men were particularly entertaining, as it was evident that most of them were professional trainers.

There was sitting at the farther end of the table a rather young-looking man, who had been less talkative than the others, but who after a while said something about a horse at the fort. The mentioning of the post was startling, and I listened to hear what further he had to say. And he continued, "Yes, you fellers can say what yer dern please about yer broncos, but that little horse can corral any dern piece of horseflesh yer can show up. A lady rides him, and I guess I'd put her up with the horse. The boys over there say that she broke the horse herself, and I say! you fellers orter see her make him go--and he likes it, too."

By the time the man stopped talking, my excitement was great, for I was positive that he had been speaking of Rollo, although no mention had been made of the horse's color or gait. So I asked what gait the horse had. He and two or three of the other men looked at me with pity in their eyes--actual pity--that plainly said, "Poor thing--what can you know about gaits"; but he answered civilly, "Well, lady, he is what we call a square pacer," and having done his duty he turned again to his friends, as though they only could understand him, and said, "No cow swing about that horse. He is a light sorrel and has the very handsomest mane yer ever did see--it waves, too, and I guess the lady curls it--but don't know for sure."

The situation was most unusual and in some ways most embarrassing, also. Those nine men were rough and unkempt, but they were splendid horsemen--that I knew intuitively--and to have one of their number select my very own horse above all others to speak of with unstinted praise, was something to be proud of, but to have my own self calmly and complacently disposed of with the horse--"put up," in fact--was quite another thing. But not the slightest disrespect had been intended, and to leave the table without making myself known was not to be thought of. I wanted the pleasure, too, of telling those men that I knew the gait of a pacer very well--that not in the least did I deserve their pity. My face was burning and my voice unnatural when I threw the bomb!

I said, "The horse you are speaking of I know very well. He is mine, and I ride him, and I thank you very much for the nice things you have just said about him!" Well, there was a sudden change of scene at that table--a dropping of knives and forks and various other things, and I became conscious of eyes--thousands of eyes--staring straight at me, as I watched my bronco friend at the end of the table. The man had opened his eyes wide, and almost gasped "Gee-rew-s'lum!"--then utterly collapsed. He sat back in his chair gazing at me in a helpless, bewildered way that was disconcerting, so I told him a number of things about Rollo--how Faye had taken him to Helena during race week and Lafferty, a professional jockey of Bozeman, had tested his speed, and had passed a 2:30 trotter with him one morning. The men knew Lafferty, of course. There was a queer coincidence connected with him and Rollo. The horse that he was driving at the races was a pacer named Rolla, while my horse, also a pacer, was named Rollo.

All talk about horses ceased at once, and the men said very little to each other during the remainder of the time we were at the table. It was almost pathetic, and an attention I very much appreciated, to see how bread, pickles, cold meat, and in fact everything else on that rough table, were quietly pushed to me, one after the other, without one word being said. That was their way of showing their approval of me. It was unpolished, but truly sincere.

I was not at all afraid that night, for I suspected that the horsemen at the supper-table were the "boys" referred to by Mrs. Gates. But it was impossible to sleep. The partition between the two rooms must have been very thin, for the noises that came through were awful. It seemed as though dozens of men were snoring at the same time, and that some of them were dangerously "croupy," for they choked and gulped, and every now and then one would have nightmare and groan and yell until some one would tell him to "shut up," or perhaps say something funny about him to the others. No matter how many times those men were wakened they were always cheerful and good-natured about it. A statement that I cannot truthfully make about myself on the same subject!

It was not necessary for me to leave my room through the window the next morning, although my breakfast was early. The house seemed deserted, and I had the long table all to myself. At six o'clock we started on our ride to Helena. I sat with the driver going through the long Prickly-Pear canon, and had a fine opportunity of seeing its magnificent grandeur, while the early shadows were still long. The sun was on many of the higher boulders, that made them sparkle and show brilliantly in their high lights and shadows. The trees and bushes looked unusually fresh and green. We hear that a railroad will soon be built through that canon--but we hope not. It would be positively wicked to ruin anything so grand.

We reached Helena before luncheon, and I soon found Miss Duncan, who was expecting me. We did not start back until the second day, so she and I visited all the shops and then drove out to Sulphur Spring. The way everybody and everything have grown and spread out since the Northern Pacific Railroad has been running cars through Helena is most amazing. It was so recently a mining town, just "Last Chance Gulch," where Chinamen were digging up the streets for gold, almost undermining the few little buildings, and Chinamen also were raising delicious celery, where now stand very handsome houses. Now Main street has many pretentious shops, and pretty residences have been put up almost to the base of Mount Helena.

The ride back was uneventful, greatly to Miss Duncan's disappointment. It is her first visit to the West, and she wants to see cowboys and all sorts of things. I should have said "wanted to see," for I think that already her interest in brass buttons is so great the cowboys will never be thought of again. There were two at Rock Creek, but they were uninteresting--did not wear "chaps," pistols, or even big spurs. At the Bird-Tail not one sheep was to be seen--every one had been sheared, and the big band driven back to its range. Miss Duncan is a pretty girl, and unaffected, and will have a delightful visit at this Western army post, where young girls from the Eastdo not come every day. And then we have several charming young bachelors!

THE excitement is about over. Our guests have returned to their homes, and now we are settling down to our everyday garrison life. The wedding was very beautiful and as perfect in every detail as adoring father and mother and loving friends could make it. It was so strictly a military wedding, too--at a frontier post where everything is of necessity "army blue"--the bride a child of the regiment, her father an officer in the regiment many years, and the groom a recent graduate from West Point, a lieutenant in the regiment. We see all sorts of so-called military weddings in the East--some very magnificent church affairs, others at private houses, and informal, but there are ever lacking the real army surroundings that made so perfect the little wedding of Wednesday evening.

The hall was beautifully draped with the greatest number of flags of all sizes--each one a "regulation," however--and the altar and chancel rail were thickly covered with ropes and sprays of fragrant Western cedars and many flowers, and from either side of the reredos hung from their staffs the beautifully embroidered silken colors of the regiment. At the rear end of the hall stood two companies of enlisted men--one on each side of the aisle--in shining full-dress uniforms, helmets in hand. The bride's father is captain of one of those companies, and the groom a lieutenant in the other. As one entered the hall, after passing numerous orderlies, each one in full-dress uniform, of course, and walked up between the two companies, every man standing like a statue, one became impressed by the rare beauty and military completeness of the whole scene.

The bride is petite and very young, and looked almost a child as she and her father slowly passed us, her gown of heavy ivory satin trailing far back of her. The orchestra played several numbers previous to the ceremony--the Mendelssohn March for processional, and Lohengrin for recessional, but the really exquisite music was during the ceremony, when there came to us softly, as if floating from afar over gold lace and perfumed silks and satins, the enchanting strains of Moszkowski's Serenade! Faye remained with the orchestra all the time, to see that the music was changed at just the right instant and without mistake. The pretty reception was in the quarters of Major and Mrs. Stokes, and there also was the delicious supper served. Some of the presents were elegant. A case containing sixty handsome small pieces of silver was given by the officers of the regiment. A superb silver pitcher by the men of Major Stokes's company, and an exquisite silver after-dinner coffee set by the company in which the groom is a lieutenant. Several young officers came down from Fort Assiniboine to assist as ushers, and there were at the post four girls from Helena. An army post is always an attractive place to girls, but it was apparent from the first that these girls came for an extra fine time. I think they found it!

They were all at our cotillon Monday evening, and kept things moving fast. It was refreshing to have a new element, and a little variety in partners. We have danced with each other so much that everyone has become more or less like a machine. Faye led, dancing with Miss Stokes, for whom the german was given. The figures were very pretty--some of them new--and the supper was good. To serve refreshments of any kind at the hall means much work, for everything has to be prepared at the house--even coffee, must be sent over hot; and every piece of china and silver needed must be sent over also. Mrs. Hughes came from Helena on Saturday and remained with me until yesterday.

You know something of the awful times I have had with servants since Hulda went away! First came the lady tourist--who did us the honor to consent to our paying her expenses from St. Paul, and who informed me upon her arrival that she was not obliged to work out--no indeed--that her own home was much nicer than our house--that she had come up to see the country, and so forth. We found her presence too great a burden, particularly as she could not prepare the simplest meal, and so invited her to return to her elegant home. Then came the two women--the mother to Mrs. Todd, the daughter to me--who were insulted because they were expected to occupy servant's rooms, and could not "eat with the family"--so Mrs. Todd and I gave them cordial invitations to depart. Then came my Russian treasure--a splendid cook, but who could not be taught that a breakfast or dinner an hour late mattered to a regimental adjutant, and wondered why guard mounting could not be held back while she prepared an early breakfast for Faye. After a struggle of two months she was passed on. A tall, angular woman with dull red hair drawn up tight and twisted in a knot as hard as her head, was my next trial. She was the wife of a gambler of the lowest type, but that I did not know while she was here.

One day I told her to do something that she objected to, and with her hands clinched tight she came up close as if to strike me. I stood still, of course, and quietly said, "You mustn't strike me." She looked like a fury and screamed, "I will if I want to!" She was inches taller than I, but I said, "If you do, I will have you locked in the guardhouse." She became very white, and fairly hissed at me, "You can't do that--I ain't a soldier." I told her, "No, if you were a soldier you would soon be taught to behave yourself," and I continued, "you are in an army post, however, and if you do me violence I will certainly call the guard." Before I turned to go from the room I looked up at her and said, "Now I expect you to do what I have told you to do." I fully expected a strike on my head before I got very far, but she controlled herself. I went out of the house hoping she would do the same and never return, but she was there still, and we had to tell her to go, after all. I must confess, though, that the work she had objected to doing she did nicely while I was out. Miller told me that she had three pistols and two large watches in her satchel when she went away.

Then came a real treasure--Scotch Ellen--who has been with us six months, and has been very satisfactory every way. To be sure she has had awful headaches, and often it has been necessary for some one to do her work. She and the sergeant's wife prepared the supper for the german, and everything was sent to the hall in a most satisfactory way--much to my delight. Nothing wrong was noticed the next morning either, until she carried chocolate to Mrs. Hughes, when I saw with mortification that she looked untidy, but thinking of the confusion in her part of the house, I said nothing about it.

Our breakfast hour is twelve o'clock, and about eleven Mrs. Hughes and I went out for a little walk. In a short time Faye joined us, and just before twelve I came in to see if everything was in its proper place on the table. As I went down the hall I saw a sight in the dining room that sent shivers down my back. On the table were one or two doilies, and one or two of various other things, and at one side stood the Scotch treasure with a plate in one hand upon which were a few butter balls, and in the other she held a butter pick. The doors leading through pantry into the kitchen were open and all along the floor I could see here and there a little golden ball that had evidently rolled off the plate. I could also see the range--that looked black and cold and without one spark of fire!

Going to the side of the table opposite Ellen I said, "Ellen, what is the matter with you?"--and looking at me with dull, heavy eyes, she said, "And what is the matter wit' you?" Then I saw that she was drunk, horribly drunk, and told her so, but she could only say, "I'm drunk, am I?" I ran outside for Faye, but he and Mrs. Hughes had walked to the farther end of the officers' line, and I was compelled to go all that distance before I could overtake them and tell of my woes. I wanted the woman out of the house as quickly as possible, so that Miller--who is a very good cook--and I could prepare some sort of a breakfast. Faye went to the house with his longest strides and told the woman to go at once, and I saw no more of her. Mrs. Hughes was most lovely about the whole affair--said that not long ago she had tried a different cook each week for six in succession. That was comforting, but did not go far toward providing a breakfast for us. Miller proved to be a genuine treasure, however, and the sergeant's wife--who is ever "a friend indeed"--came to our assistance so soon we scarcely missed the Scotch creature. Still, it was most exasperating to have such an unnecessary upheaval, just at the very time we had a guest in the house--a dainty, fastidious little woman, too--and wanted things to move along smoothly. I wonder of what nationality the next trial will be! If one gets a good maid out here the chances are that she will soon marry a soldier or quarrel with one, as was the Case with Hulda. For some unaccountable reason a Chinese laundry at Sun River has been the cause of all the Chinamen leaving the post.

Now I must tell of something funny that happened to me.

The morning before Mrs. Hughes arrived I went out for a little ride, and about two miles up the river I left the road to follow a narrow trail that leads to a bluff called Crown Butte. I had to go through a large field of wild rosebushes, then across an alkali bed, and then through more bushes. I had passed the first bushes and was more than half way across the alkali, Rollo's feet sinking down in the sticky mud at every step, when there appeared from the bushes in front of me, and right in the path, two immense gray wolves. If they had studied to surprise me in the worst place possible they could not have succeeded better. Rollo saw them, of course, and stopped instantly, giving deep sighs, preparing to snort, I knew. To give myself courage I talked to the horse, slowly turning him around, so as to not excite him, or let the timber wolves see that I was running from them.

But the horse I could not deceive, for as soon as his back was toward them, head and tail went up, and there was snort after snort. He could not run, as we were still in the alkali lick. I looked back and saw that the big gray beasts were slowly moving toward us, and I recognized the fact that the mud would not stop them, if they chose to cross it. Once free of the awful stickiness, I knew that we would be out of danger, as the swiftest wolf could never overtake the horse--but it seemed as if it were miles across that white mud. But at last we got up on solid ground, and were starting off at Rollo's best pace, when from out of the bushes in front of us, there came a third wolf! The horse stopped so suddenly it is a wonder I was not pitched over his head, but I did not think of that at the time.

The poor horse was terribly frightened, and I could feel him tremble, which made me all the more afraid. The situation was not pleasant, and without stopping to think, I said, "Rollo, we must run him down--now do your best!" and taking a firm hold of the bridle, and bracing myself in the saddle, I struck the horse hard with my whip and gave an awful scream. I never use a whip on him, so the sting on his side and yell in his ears frightened him more than the wolf had, and he started on again with a rush. But the wolf stood still--so did my heart--for the beast looked savage. When it seemed as though we were actually upon him I struck the horse again and gave scream after scream as fast as my lungs would allow me. The big gray thing must have thought something evil was coming, for he sprang back, and then jumped over in the bushes and did not show himself again. Rollo came home at an awful pace; but I looked back once and saw, standing in the road near the bushes, five timber wolves, evidently watching us. Just where the other two had been I will never know, of course.

We have ridden and driven up that road many, many times, and I have often ridden through those rosebushes, but have never seen wolves or coyotes. Down in the lowland on the other side of the post we frequently see a coyote that will greet us with the most unearthly howls, and will sometimes follow carriages, howling all the time. But everyone looks upon him as a pet. Those big, gray timber wolves are quite another animal, fierce and savage. Some one asked me why I screamed, but I could not tell why. Perhaps it was to urge the horse--perhaps to frighten the wolf--perhaps to relieve the strain on my nerves. Possibly it was just because I was frightened and could not help it!

SUCH upheaval orders have been coming to the post the past few days, some of us wonder if there has not been an earthquake, and can only sit around and wait in a numb sort of way for whatever may come next.

General Bourke, who has been colonel of the regiment, you know, has been appointed a brigadier general and is to command the Department of the Platte, with headquarters at Omaha, Nebraska. This might have affected Faye under any circumstances, as a new colonel has the privilege of selecting his own staff officers, but General Bourke, as soon as he received the telegram telling of his appointment, told Faye that he should ask for him as aide-de-camp. This will take us to Omaha, also, and I am almost heartbroken over it, as it will be a wretched life for me--cooped up in a noisy city! At the same time I am delighted that Faye will have for four years the fine staff position. These appointments are complimentary, and considered most desirable.

The real stir-up, however, came with orders for the regiment to go to Fort Snelling, Minnesota, for that affects about everyone here. Colonel Munson, who relieves General Bourke as colonel of the regiment, is in St. Paul, and is well known as inspector general of this department, which perhaps is not the most flattering introduction he could have had to his new regiment. He telegraphed, as soon as promoted, that he desired Faye to continue as adjutant, but of course to be on the staff of a general is far in advance of being on the staff of a colonel. The colonel commands only his own regiment--sometimes not all of that, as when companies are stationed at other posts than headquarters--whereas a brigadier general has command of a department consisting of many army posts and many regiments.

The one thing that distresses me most of all is, that I have to part from my horse! This is what makes me so rebellious, for aside from my own personal loss, I have great sorrow for the poor dumb animal that will suffer so much with strangers who will not understand him. No one has ridden or driven him for two years but myself, and he has been tractable and lovable always. During very cold weather, when perhaps he would be too frisky, I have allowed him to play in the yard back of the house, until all superfluous spirits had been kicked and snorted off, after which I could have a ride in peace and safety. Faye thinks that he is entirely too nervous ever to take kindly to city sights and sounds--that the fretting and the heat might kill him.

So it has been decided that once again we will sell everything--both horses and all things pertaining to them, reserving our saddles only. Every piece of furniture will be sold, also, as we do not purpose to keep house at all while in Omaha. How I envy our friends who will go to Fort Snelling! We have always been told that it is such a beautiful post, and the people of St. Paul and Minneapolis are most charming. It seems so funny that the regiment should be sent to Snelling just as Colonel Munson was promoted to it. He will have to move six miles only!

We know that when we leave Fort Shaw we will go from the old army life of the West--that if we ever come back, it will be to unfamiliar scenes and a new condition of things. We have seen the passing of the buffalo and other game, and the Indian seems to be passing also. But I must confess that I have no regret for the Indians--there are still too many of them!

THERE can be only two more days at this dear old post, where we have been so happy, and I want those to pass as quickly as possible, and have some of the misery over. Our house is perfectly forlorn, with just a few absolute necessaries in it for our use while here. Everything has been sold or given away, and all that is left to us are our trunks and army chests. Some fine china and a few pieces of cut glass I kept, and even those are packed in small boxes and in the chests.

The general selling-out business has been funny. No one in the regiment possessed many things that they cared to move East with them, and as we did not desire to turn our houses into second-hand shops, where people could handle and make remarks about things we had treasured, it was decided that everything to be sold should be moved to the large hall, where enlisted men could attend to the shop business. Our only purchasers were people from Sun River Crossing, and a few ranches that are some distance from the post, and it was soon discovered that anything at all nice was passed by them, so we became sharp--bunching the worthless with the good--and that worked beautifully and things sold fast.

These moves are of the greatest importance to army officers, and many times the change of station is a mere nothing in comparison to the refitting of a house, something that is never taken into consideration when the pay of the Army is under discussion. The regiment has been on the frontier ten years, and everything that we had that was at all nice had been sent up from St. Paul at great expense, or purchased in Helena at an exorbitant price. All those things have been disposed of for almost nothing, and when the regiment reaches Fort Snelling, where larger quarters have to be furnished for an almost city life, the officers will be at great expense. Why I am bothering about Snelling I fail to see, as we are not going there, and I certainly have enough troubles of my Own to think about.

This very morning, Mrs. Ames, of Sun River Crossing, who now owns dear Rollo, came up to ask me to show her how to drive him! Just think of that! She talked as though she had been deceived--that it was my duty to show her the trick by which I had managed to control the horse, and, naturally, it would be a delightful pleasure to me to be allowed to drive him once more, and so on. Mrs. Ames said that yesterday she started out with him, intending to come to the post to let me see him--fancy the delicate feeling expressed in that--but the horse went so fast she became frightened, for it seemed as though the telegraph poles were only a foot apart. She finally got the horse turned around and drove back home, when her husband got in and undertook to drive him, but with no better success; but he, too, started the horse toward his old home.

Mr. Ames then told her to have Rollo put back in the stable until she could get me to show her how to drive him. I almost cried out from pure pity for the poor dumb beast that I knew was suffering so in his longing for his old home and friends who understood him. But for the horse's sake I tried not to break down. I told her that first of all she must teach the horse to love her. That was an awfully hard thing to say, I assure you, and I doubt if the woman understood my meaning after all. When I told her not to pull on his mouth she looked amazed, and said, "Why, he would run away with me if I didn't!" But I assured her that he would not--that he had been taught differently--that he was very nervous and spirited--that the harder she pulled the more excited he would become--that I had simply held him steady, no more. I saw that Mrs. Ames did not believe one word that I had said, but I tried to convince her, for the sake of the unhappy animal that had been placed at her mercy.

I have often met and passed her out on the road, and the horse she drives is a large, handsome animal, and we had supposed that she was a good whip; so, when Mr. Ames appeared the other day and said his wife had asked him to come up and buy the sorrel horse for her we were delighted that such a good home had been found for him--and for Fannie too. Mr. Ames bought the entire outfit. Fannie is beautiful, but wholly lacking in affection, and can take care of herself any place.

All sorts of people have been here for the horses--some wanted both, others only one--but Faye would not let them go to any of them, as he was afraid they would not have the best of care. Rollo had been gone only an hour or so when a young man--a typical bronco breaker--came to buy him, and seemed really distressed because he had been sold. He said that he had broken him when a colt at Mr. Vaughn's. It so happened that Faye was at the adjutant's office, and the man asked for me. I was very glad, for I had always wanted to meet the person who had slammed the saddle first on Rollo's back. I told him that it was generally considered at the post that I had broken the horse! I said that he had been made cruelly afraid of a saddle, and for a long time after we had bought him, he objected to it and to being mounted, and I did not consider a horse broken that would do those things. I said also, that the horse had not been gaited. He interrupted with, "Why, he's a pacer"--just as though that settled everything; but I told him that Rollo had three perfectly trained grades of speed, each one of which I had taught him.

The young man's face became very red and he looked angry, but I had a beautiful time. It was such a relief to express my opinion to the man just at that time, too, when I was grieving so for the horse. I saw at once that he was a bronco breaker from his style of dress. He had on boots of very fine leather with enormously high heels, and strapped to them were large, sharp-pointed Mexican spurs. His trousers were of leather and very broad at the bottom, and all down the front and outside was some kind of gray fur--"chaps" this article of dress is called--and in one hand he held a closely plaited, stinging black "quirt." He wore a plaid shirt and cotton handkerchief around his neck. That describes the man who rode Rollo first--and no wonder the spirited, high-strung colt was suspicious of saddles, men, and things. I watched the man as he rode away. His horse was going at a furious gallop, with ears turned back, as if expecting whip or spur any instant, and the man sat far over on one side, that leg quite straight as though he was standing in the long stirrup, and the other was resting far up on the saddle--which was of the heavy Mexican make, with enormous flaps, and high, round pommel in front. I am most thankful that Rollo has gone beyond that man's reach, as everything about him told of cruelty to horses.

Yet, Mrs. Ames seemed such a cold woman--so incapable of understanding or appreciating the affection of a dumb animal. During the years we owned Rollo he was struck with the whip only once--the time I wanted him to run down a wolf up the river.

The Great Northern Railroad runs very near Fort Shaw now--about twenty miles, I think--and, that will make it convenient for the moving of the regiment, and all of us, in fact. We will go to St. Paul on the special train with the regiment, for Faye will not be relieved as adjutant until he reaches Fort Snelling, where we will remain for a day or two. It will be a sad trip for me, for I love the West and life at a Western post, and the vanities of city life do not seem attractive to me--and I shall miss my army friends, too!

Perhaps it is a small matter to mention, but since I have been with the Army I have ridden twenty-two horses that had never been ridden by a woman before! As I still recollect the gait and disposition of each horse, it seems of some consequence to me, for unbroken as some were, I was never unseated--not once!

ALMOST five weeks have passed since we left dear Fort Shaw! During that time we have become more or less accustomed to the restrictions of a small city, but I fancy that I am not the only one of the party from Montana who sometimes sighs for the Rocky Mountains and the old garrison life. Here we are not of the Army--neither are we citizens. General and Mrs. Bourke are still dazzled by the brilliancy of the new silver star on the general's shoulder straps, and can still smile. Faye says very little, but I know that he often frets over his present monotonous duties and yearns for the regiment, his duties as adjutant of the regiment, the parades, drills, and outdoor life generally, that make life so pleasant at a frontier post.

Department Headquarters is in a government building down by the river, and the offices are most cheerless. All the officers wear civilian clothes, and there is not one scrap of uniform to be seen any place--nothing whatever to tell one "who is who," from the department commander down to Delaney, the old Irish messenger! Each one sits at his desk and busies himself over the many neatly tied packages of official papers upon it, and tries to make the world believe that he is happy--but there are confidential talks, when it is admitted that life is dreary--the regiment the only place for an energetic officer, and so on. Yet not one of those officers could be induced to give up his detail, for it is always such a compliment to be selected from the many for duty at headquarters. Faye and Lieutenant Travis are on the general's personal staff, the others belong to the department. Just now, Faye is away with the department commander, who is making an official tour of inspection through his new department, which is large, and includes some fine posts. It is known as "The Department of the Platte."

Everyone has been most hospitable--particularly the army people at Fort Omaha--a post just beyond the city limits. Mrs. Wheeler, wife of the colonel in command, gave a dancing reception very soon after we got here, and an elegant dinner a little later on--both for the new brigadier general and his staff. Mrs. Foster, the handsome wife of the lieutenant colonel, gave a beautiful luncheon, and the officers of the regiment gave a dance that was pleasant. But their orchestra is far from being as fine as ours. In the city there have been afternoon and evening receptions, and several luncheons, the most charming luncheon of all having been the one given by my friend, Mrs. Schuyler, at the Union Club. One afternoon each week the club rooms are at the disposal of the wives of its members, and so popular is this way of entertaining, the rooms are usually engaged weeks in advance. The service is really perfect, and the rooms airy and delightfully cool--and cool rooms are great treasures in this hot place.

The heat has been almost unbearable to us from the mountains, and one morning I nearly collapsed while having things "fitted" in the stuffy rooms of a dressmaker. Many of these nouveaux riches dress elegantly, and their jewels are splendid. All the women here have such white skins, and by comparison I must look like a Mexican, my face is so brown from years of exposure to dry, burning winds. Of course there has been much shopping to do, and for a time it was so confusing--to have to select things from a counter, with a shop girl staring at me, or perhaps insisting upon my purchasing articles I did not want. For years we had shopped from catalogues, and it was a nice quiet way, too. Parasols have bothered me. I would forget to open them in the street, and would invariably leave them in the stores when shopping, and then have to go about looking them up. But this is the first summer I have been East in nine years, and it is not surprising that parasols and things mix me up at times.

Faye has a beautiful saddle horse--his gait a natural single foot--and I sometimes ride him, but most of my outings are on the electric cars. I might as well be on them, since I have to hear their buzz and clang both day and night from our rooms here in the hotel. The other morning, as I was returning from a ride across the river to Council Bluffs, I heard the shrill notes of a calliope that reminded me that Forepaugh's circus was to be in town that day, and that I had promised to go to the afternoon performance with a party of friends. But soon there were other sounds and other thoughts. Above the noise of the car I heard a brass band--and there could be no mistake--it was playing strong and full one of Sousa's marches, "The March Past of the Rifle Regiment"--a march that was written for Faye while he was adjutant of the regiment, and "Dedicated to the officers and enlisted men" of the regiment. For almost three years that one particular march had been the review march of the regiment--that is, it had been played always whenever the regiment had passed in review before the colonel, inspector general of the department, or any official of sufficient rank and authority to review the troops.

The car seemed to go miles before it came to a place where I could get off. Every second was most precious and I jumped down while it was still in motion, receiving a scathing rebuke from the conductor for doing so. I almost ran until I got to the walk nearest the band, where I tagged along with boys, both big and small. The march was played for some time, and no one could possibly imagine, how those familiar strains thrilled me. But there was an ever-increasing feeling of indignation that a tawdry coated circus band, sitting in a gilded wagon, should presume to play that march, which seemed to belong exclusively to the regiment, and to be associated only with scenes of ceremony and great dignity.

The circus men played the piece remarkably well, however, and when it was stopped I came back to the hotel to think matters over and have a heart-to-heart talk with myself. Of course I am more than proud that Faye is an aide-de-camp, and would not have things different from what they are, but the detail is for four years, and the thought of living in this unattractive place that length of time is crushing. But Faye will undoubtedly have his captaincy by the expiration of the four years, and the anticipation of that is comforting. It is the feeling of loneliness I mind here--of being lost and no one to search for me. I miss the cheery garrison life--the delightful rides, and it may sound funny, but I miss also the little church choir that finally became a joy to me. Sergeant Graves is now leader of the regimental band at Fort Snelling, and Matijicek is in New York, a member of the Damrosch orchestra. It is still something to wonder over that I should have been on a street car that carried me to a circus parade at the precise time the Review March was being played! It seems quite as marvelous as my having been seated at a supper table in a far-away ranch in Montana, the very night a number of horse breakers were there, also at the table, and one of them "put up" Rollo and me to his friends. I shall never forget how queer I felt when I heard myself discussed by perfect strangers in my very presence--not one of whom knew in the least who I was. It made me think that perhaps I was shadowy--invisible--although to myself I did not feel at all that way.

Faye wrote to Mr. Ames about Rollo, thinking that possibly he might buy him back, but Mr. Ames wrote in reply that Rollo had already been sold, because Mrs. Ames had found it impossible to manage him. Also that he was owned by the post trader at Fort Maginnis, who was making a pet of him. So, as the horse had a good home and gentle treatment, it was once more decided to leave him up in his native mountains. It might have been cruel to have brought him here to suffer from the heat, and to be frightened and ever fretted by the many strange sights and sounds. But I am not satisfied, for the horse had an awful fear of men when ridden or driven by them, and I know that he is so unhappy and wonders why I no longer come to him, and why I do not take him from the strange people who do not understand him. He was a wonderfully playful animal, and sometimes when Miller would be leading the two horses from our yard to the corral, he would turn Rollo loose for a run. That always brought out a number of soldiers to see him rear, lunge, and snort; his turns so quick, his beautiful tawny mane would be tossed from side to side and over his face until he looked like a wild horse. The more the men laughed the wilder he seemed to get. He never forgot Miller, however, but would be at the corral by the time he got there, and would go to his own stall quietly and without guidance. Poor Rollo!

TO be back in the mountains and in camp is simply glorious! And to see soldiers walking around, wearing the dear old uniform, just as we used to see them, makes one feel as though old days had returned. The two colored men--chef and butler--rather destroy the technique of a military camp, but they seem to be necessary adjuncts; and besides, we are not striving for harmony and effect, but for a fine outing, each day to be complete with its own pleasures. It was a novel experience to come to the mountains in a private car! The camp is very complete, as the camp of a department commander should be, and we have everything for our comfort. We are fourteen miles from the Union Pacific Railroad and six from Fort Bridger, from which post our tents and supplies came. Our ice is sent from there, also, and of course the enlisted men are from that garrison.

The party consists of General and Mrs. Bourke, Mrs. Hall, Mrs. Bourke's sister, Mrs. Ord of Omaha, General Stanley, paymaster, Captain Rives, judge advocate--both of the department staff--Lieutenant Travis, junior aide-de-camp, Faye, and myself. Mrs. Ord is a pretty woman, always wears dainty gowns, and is a favorite with Omaha society people. I know her very well, still I hesitated about wearing my short-skirted outing suit, fearing it would shock her. But a day or two after we got here she said to me, "What are we to do about those fish, Mrs. Rae? I always catch the most fish wherever I go, but I hear that you are successful also!"

So with high spirits we started out by ourselves that very morning, everyone laughing and betting on our number of fish as we left camp. I wore the short skirt, but Mrs. Ord had her skirts pinned so high I felt that a tuck or two should be taken in mine, to save her from embarrassment. The fishing is excellent here and each one had every confidence in her own good luck, for the morning was perfect for trout fishing. Once I missed Mrs. Ord, and pushing some bushes back where I thought she might be, I saw a most comical sight. Lying flat on the ground, hat pushed back, and eyes peering over the bank of the stream, was Mrs. Ord, the society woman! I could not help laughing--she was so ridiculous in that position, which the pinned-up dress made even more funny--but she did not like it, and looking at me most reproachfully said, "You have frightened him away, and I almost had him." She had been in that position a long time, she said, waiting for a large trout to take her hook. The race for honors was about even that day, and there was no cause for envy on either side, for neither Mrs. Ord nor I caught one fish!

Our camp is near Smith's fork of Snake River, and not far from the camp is another fork that never has fish in it--so everyone tells us. That seemed so strange, for both streams have the same water from the stream above, and the same rocky beds. One day I thought I would try the stream, as Smith's fork was so muddy we could not fish in that. There had been a storm up in the mountains that had caused both streams to rise, so I caught some grasshoppers to bait with, as it would be useless, of course, to try flies. I walked along the banks of the swollen stream until I saw a place where I thought there should be a trout, and to that little place the grasshopper was cast, when snap! went my leader. I put on another hook and another grasshopper, but the result was precisely the same, so I concluded there must be a snag there, although I had supposed that I knew a fish from a snag! I tried one or two other places, but there was no variation--and each time I lost a leader and hook.

In the meantime a party had come over from camp, Faye among them, and there had been much good advice given me--and each one had told me that there were no fish ever in that stream; then they went on up and sat down on the bank under some trees. I was very cross, for it was not pleasant to be laughed at, particularly by women who had probably never had a rod in their hands. And I felt positive that it had been fish that had carried off my hooks, and I was determined to ascertain what was the matter. So I went back to our tent and got a very long leader, which I doubled a number of times. I knew that the thickness would not frighten the fish, as the water was so cloudy. I fixed a strong hook to that, upon which was a fine grasshopper, and going to one of the places where my friends said I had been "snagged," I cast it over, and away it all went, which proved that I had caught something that could at least act like a fish. I reeled it in, and in time landed the thing--a splendid large trout! My very first thought was of those disagreeable people who had laughed at me--Faye first of all. So after them I went, carrying the fish, which gained in weight with every step. Their surprise was great, and I could see that Faye was delighted. He carried the trout to camp for me, and I went with him, for I was very tired.

The next morning I went to that stream again, taking with me a book of all sorts of flies and some grasshoppers. The department commander went over also. He asked me to show him where I had lost the hooks, but I said, "If you fish in those places you will be laughed at more than I was yesterday." He understood, and went farther down. The water was much more clear, but still flies could not be seen, so I used the scorned grasshopper. In about two hours I caught sixteen beautiful trout, which weighed, en masse, a little over twenty-five pounds! I cast in the very places where I had lost hooks, and almost every time caught a fish. I left them in the shade in various places along the stream, and Faye and a soldier brought them to camp. A fine display they made, spread out on the grass, for they seemed precisely the same size.

The general caught two large and several small trout--those were all that day. It was most remarkable that I should have found the only good places in the stream at a time when the water was not clear. Not only the right places, but the one right day, for not one trout has been caught there since. Perhaps with the high water the fish came up from Snake River, although trout are supposed to live in clear water. We can dispose of any number of birds and fish here, for those that are not needed for our own large mess can be given to the soldiers, and we often send chicken and trout to our friends at Fort Bridger. The farther one goes up the stream the better the fishing is--that is, the fish are more plentiful, but not as large as they are here.

About sixteen miles up--almost in the mountains--was General Crook's favorite fishing ground, and when he was in command of the department he and General Stanley, who also is an expert fisherman, came here many times, consequently General Stanley is familiar with the country about here. The evening after my splendid catch, General Stanley said that he would like to have Mrs. Ord and me go with him up the stream several miles, and asked if I would be willing to give Mrs. Ord the stream, as she had never used a fly, adding that she seemed a little piqued because I had caught such fine fish. I said at once that I would be delighted to give her the lead, although I knew, of course, that whoever goes second in a trout stream has very poor sport. But the request was a compliment, and besides, I had caught enough fish for a while.

The next day we made preparations, and early on the morning of the second we started. The department commander had gone to Omaha on official business, so he was not with us, and Faye did not go; but the rest of the party went twelve miles and then established a little camp for the day, and there we left them. Mrs. Ord and I and General Stanley, with a driver, got on a buckboard drawn by two mules, and went five miles farther up the stream, until, in fact, it was impossible for even a buckboard to go along the rocky trail. There we were expected to take the stream, and as soon as we left the wagon, Mrs. Ord and I retired to some bushes to prepare for the water. I had taken the "tuck" in my outing skirt, so there was not much for me to do; but Mrs. Ord pulled up and pinned up her serge skirt in a way that would have brought a small fortune to a cartoonist. When we came from the bushes, rods in hand, the soldier driver gave one bewildered stare, and then almost fell from his seat. He was too respectful to laugh outright and thus relieve his spasms, but he would look at us from the side of his eye, turn his face from us and fairly double over--then another quick look, and another double down again. Mrs. Ord laughed, and so did I. She is quite stout and I am very thin, and I suppose the soldier did see funny things about us. We saw them ourselves.

I shall never forget my first step in that water! It was as chilling as if it had been running over miles of ice, and by comparison the August sun seemed fiery; but these things were soon forgotten, for at once the excitement of casting a fly began. It is almost as much pleasure to put a little fly just where you want it, as it is to catch the fish. My rod and reel were in perfect condition--Faye had seen to that--and my book of flies was complete, and with charming companions and a stream full of trout, a day of unusual pleasure was assured. We were obliged to wade every step, as the banks of the stream had walls of boulders and thick bushes. Most of the stream was not very deep, but was a foamy, roaring torrent, rushing over the small rocks and around the large ones, with little, still, dark places along the banks--ideal homes for the mountain trout. We found a few deep pools that looked most harmless, but the current in them was swift and dangerous to those who could not always keep their balance. It was most difficult for me to walk on the slippery stones at first, and I had many a fall; but Mrs. Ord, being heavy, avoided upsets very nicely. At times we would be in water above our waists, and then Mrs. Ord and I would fall back with General Stanley for protection, who alternately praised and laughed at us during the whole day. Mrs. Ord was very quick to learn where and how to cast a fly, and I was delighted to let General Stanley see that grasshoppers were not at all necessary to my success in fishing.

We sat upon a big, flat rock at luncheon, and were thankful that General Stanley was a tall man and could keep the box of sandwiches from getting wet. When we toppled over he always came to our assistance, so at times his wading boots were not of much use to him. Mrs. Ord was far ahead of me in number of fish, and General Stanley said that I had better keep up with her, if I wished. The stream had broadened out some, so finally Mrs. Ord whipped the left side, which is easier casting, and I whipped the right. We waded down the entire five miles, and Mrs. Ord, who had the stream most of the time, caught sixty-four trout and I caught fifty-six, and General Stanley picked up fourteen, after our splashing and frightening away the fish we did not catch. The trout were small, but wonderfully full of fight in that cold water. Of course General Stanley carried them for us. The driver had been ordered to keep within call on the trail, as General Stanley thought it would be impossible for Mrs. Ord and me to wade the five miles; but the distance seemed short to us; we never once thought of being tired, and it was with great regret we reeled in our lines.

There was a beaver dam above the picnic camp, and before we came to it I happened to get near the bank, where I saw in the mud the impression of a huge paw. It was larger than a tea plate, and was so fresh one could easily see where the nails had been. I asked General Stanley to look at it, but he said, "That? oh, that is only the paw of a cub--he has been down after fish." At once I discovered that the middle of the stream was most attractive, and there I went, and carefully remained there the rest of the way down. If the paw of a mere "cub" could be that enormous size, what might not be the size of an ordinary grown-up bear, paws included! Mrs. Ord declared that she rather liked little bears--they were so cunning and playful--but I noticed she avoided the banks, also.

We had left dry clothing at the small camp, and when we returned we found nice little retreats all ready for us, made of cloaks and things, in among the boulders and bushes. There were cups of delicious hot tea, too; but we were not cold, and the most astonishing thing about that whole grand day is, we did not feel stiff or the slightest discomfort in any form after it. The tramp was long and the water cold, and my own baths many. I might have saved myself, sometimes, from going all the way down had I not been afraid of breaking my rod, which I always held high when I fell. The day was one to be remembered by Mrs. Ord and me. We had thought all the time that General Stanley was making a great sacrifice by giving up a day's sport for our amusement, and that it was so kind of him, for, of course he could not be enjoying the day; but it seems that he had sport of which we knew nothing until the following day--in fact, we know nothing about it yet! But he began to tell the most absurd stories of what we did, and we must have done many unusual things, for he is still entertaining the camp with them. He was very proud of us, nevertheless, and says so often. The ride of twelve miles back to camp seemed endless, for as soon as the excitement of the stream was over we found that we were tired--awfully tired.

We have only a few weeks more of this delightful life. The hunting is excellent, too, and Faye and Captain Rives often bring in large bags of mountain grouse and young sage hens. The sage chicken are as tender and delicious as partridge before they begin to feed upon wild sage in the fall, but one short day in the brush makes them different birds and wholly unpalatable. We often send birds, and fish also, to friends at Fort Bridger, who were most hospitable the day we arrived, and before coming to camp.

I had quite forgotten the wedding yesterday! It was at Fort Bridger, and the bride, a daughter of the post trader, is related to several families of social position at Omaha. We put on the very prettiest gowns we had with us, but the effect was disappointing, for our red faces looked redder than ever above delicate laces and silks. The ceremony was at noon--was very pretty--and everything passed off beautifully. The breakfast was delicious, and we wondered at the dainty dishes served so far from a caterer. The house was not large, and every bit of air had been shut out by darkening the windows, but we were spared the heat and smell of lamps on the hot day by the rooms being lighted by hundreds of candles, each one with a pretty white shade. But some of us felt smothered, and as soon as the affair was over, started immediately for the camp, where we could have exhilarating mountain air once more.

It was really one whole day stolen from our outing! We can always have crowded rooms, receptions, and breakfasts, wherever we happen to be in the East, but when again will we be in a glorious camp like this--and our days here are to be so few! From here we are to go to Salt Lake City for a week or two.

THE weather is still very warm, but not hot enough to keep us from going to the lake as usual this morning. The ride is about eighteen miles long, and is always more or less pleasant. The cars, often long trains, are narrow gauge, open, and airy. The bathing is delightful, but wholly unlike anything to be found elsewhere. The wonderfully clear water is cool and exhilarating, but to swim in it is impossible, it is so heavy from its large percentage of salt. So every one floats, but not at all as one floats in other waters. We lie upon our backs, of course--at least we think we do--but our feet are always out of the water, and our heads straight up, with large straw hats upon them.

They have a way of forming human chains on the water that often startles one at first. They are made by hooking one's arms close to the shoulder over the ankles of another person, still another body hooking on to you, and so on. Then each one will stretch his or her arms out and paddle backward, and in this way we can go about without much effort, and can see all the funny things going on around us. As I am rather tall, second position in a chain is almost always given to me, and my first acquaintance with masculine toes close to my face came very near being disastrous. The feet stood straight up, and the toes looked so very funny, with now and then a twitch back or front, that soon I wanted to laugh, and the more I tried not to the more hysterical I became. My shoulders were shaking, and the owner of the toes--a pompous man--began to suspect that I was laughing and probably at the toes. Still he continued to twist them around--one under the other--in an astonishing way, that made them fascinating. The head of the chain--the pompous man--became ominously silent. At last I said, almost sobbing, "Can't you see for yourself how funny all those things are in front of us? They look like wings in their pin-feather stage--only they are on the wrong side--and I am wondering if the black stockings would make real black wings--and what some of us would do with them, after all!" After that there was less pompous dignity and less hysteria, although the toes continued to wigwag.

It is a sight that repays one to watch, when dozens of these chains--some long, some short--are paddling about on the blue water that is often without a ripple. It is impossible to drown, for sink in it you cannot, but to get the brine in one's nose and throat is dangerous, as it easily causes strangulation, particularly if the person is at all nervous. We wear little bits of cotton in our ears to prevent the water from getting in, for the crust of salt it would leave might cause intense pain.

Bathing in water so salt makes one both hungry and sleepy, therefore it is considered quite the correct thing to eat hot popcorn, and snooze on the return trip. We get the popcorn at the pavilion, put up in attractive little bags, and it is always crisp and delicious. Just imagine a long open car full of people, each man, woman, and child greedily munching the tender corn! By the time one bag full has been eaten, heads begin to wobble, and soon there is a "Land of Nod"--real nod, too. Some days, when the air is particularly soft and balmy, everyone in the car will be oblivious of his whereabouts. Not one stop is made from the lake to the city.

Faye and I were at the lake almost a week--Garfield Beach the bathing place is called---so I could make a few water-color drawings early in the morning, when the tints on the water are so pearly and exquisitely delicate. During the day the lake is usually a wonderful blue--deep and brilliant--and the colors at sunset are past description. The sun disappears back of the Oquirah Mountains in a world of glorious yellow and orange, and as twilight comes on, the mountains take on violet and purple shades that become deeper and deeper, until night covers all from sight.

There was not a vacant room at Garfield Beach, so they gave us two large rooms at Black Rock--almost one mile away, but on the car line. The rooms were in a low, long building, that might easily be mistaken for soldiers' barracks, and which had broad verandas with low roofs all along both sides. That queer building had been built by Brigham Young for his seven wives! It consisted of seven apartments of two rooms each, a sitting room and sleeping room; all the sitting rooms were on one side, opening out upon the one veranda, and the bedrooms were on the other side and opened out upon the other veranda. These apartments did not connect in any way, except by the two porches. Not far from that building was another that had once been the dining room and kitchen of the seven wives. These mormon women must be simply idiotic, or have their tempers under good control!

It was all most interesting and a remarkable experience to have lived in one of Brigham Young's very own houses. But the place was ghostly--lonesome beyond everything--and when the wind moaned and sighed through the rooms one could fancy it was the wailing of the spirits of those seven wretched wives. When we returned at night to the dark, unoccupied building, it seemed more spooky than ever, after the music and light at Garfield Beach. Our meals were served to us at the restaurant at the pavilion. I made some very good sketches of the lake, Antelope Island, and a number of the wonderful Black Rock that is out in the lake opposite the Brigham Young house.

About two miles from the city, and upon the side of the Wasatch Mountains, is Camp Douglas, an army post, which the new department commander came to inspect. The inspection was in the morning, and we all went to see it, and were driven in the post with the booming of cannon--the salute always given a brigadier general when he enters a post officially. It was pretty to see the general's wife partly cover her ears, and pretend that she did not like the noise, when all the time her eyes were sparkling, and we knew that every roar of the big guns added to her pride. If all those guns had been for Faye I could never have stayed in the ambulance.

It is charming up there--in the post--and the view is magnificent. We sat out on a vine-covered porch during the inspection, and watched the troops and the review. It made me so happy, and yet so homesick, too, to see Faye once more in his uniform. The inspection was all too short, and after it was over, many officers and their wives came to call upon us, when wine and delicious cake was served. We were at the quarters of the colonel and post commander. That was the second post we had taken Mrs. Ord to, and she is suddenly enthusiastic over army people, forgetting that Omaha has a post of its own. But with us she has been in the tail of the comet--which made things more interesting. Army people are nice, though, particularly in their own little garrison homes.

There is only one mormon store here, and that is very large and cooperative. Every mormon who has anything whatever to sell is compelled to take it to that store to be appraised, and a percentage taken from it. There are a few nice gentile shops, but mormons cannot enter them; they can purchase only at the mormon store, where the gentiles are ever cordially welcomed also. Splendid fruit and vegetables are grown in this valley--especially the fruit, which is superior to any we ever saw. The grapes are of many varieties, each one large and rich with flavor, and the peaches and big yellow pears are most luscious. Upon our table down in the dining room there is always an immense glass bowl of selected fruit--peaches, pears, and grapes, and each time we go down it seems to look more attractive.

We have been to see the tabernacle, with its marvelous acoustic properties, and the temple, which is not yet finished. The immense pipe organ in the tabernacle was built where it now stands, and entirely by mormons. From Brigham Young's old home a grand boulevard runs, through the city, across the valley, and over the hill far away, and how much beyond I do not know. This road, so broad and white, Brigham Young said would lead to Jerusalem. They have a river Jordan here, too, a little stream that runs just outside the city.

There are grand trees in every street, and every old yard, and one cannot help feeling great indignation to see where in some places the incoming gentiles have cut trees down to make space for modern showy buildings, that are so wholly out of harmony with the low, artistic white houses and vine-covered walls. It is such a pity that these high, red buildings could not have been kept outside, and the old mormon city left in its original quaint beauty.

We will return to Omaha soon now, and I shall at once become busy with preparations for the winter East. I have decided to go home in October, so I can have a long, comfortable visit before going to Washington. Faye wishes me to join him there the last of December. I am not very enthusiastic over the prospect of crowded rooms, daily receptions and "teas," and other affairs of more formality. But since I cannot return to the plains, I might as well go to the city, where we will meet people of culture, see the fascinating Diplomatic Corps, and be presented to the President's beautiful young wife. Later on there will be the inauguration--for we expect to pass the winter in Washington.

THE END