Mar. 8th

It is a lovely morning. The sun shines bright and warm + the wind blows fresh from the mountains. I have gotten up early this morning to finish this letter to you. The Mail closes to day at 9 o’clock Glen expects to be in Benton in ten days, he goes by the upper road so [?] to [?][?] every night. The fresh [?] this morning was the advert[?] of half a dozen Indians with [?][?]. One a woman with a terrible hand her constitution[?] all broken[?] down, and suffering dreadfully. I washed the hand + examined it but am still in doubt. I may yet have to amputate it, the others were [?] ailments and easily dealt with. So you see I am becoming a successful practitioner amongst the [?] savages. And I think too they all like me for I am gentle + thoughtful of their feelings[?] just as tho’ they were white civilized people. And they, I think, appreciate kindness as much as any one. When I go to their[?] [?] today[?] they gave me a smoke always and talk and laugh away in the happiness [?]. And any[?] little thing[?] they want[?] done they come to me to get it[?] done for these. I have the same old story. No Mail. No one knows what is the reason[?] but [?][?] conjectures are afloat which becomes more and more varied[?] as each day passes without [?] its arrival. I must now say Good bye Give my love to all at home. Remember me kindly to Mr. Allison[?] + [?]. Tell Mannie I wrote to him by the last Mail but one. When[?] does your birthday come, some day this month. I wish you many many happy returns of[?] it[?]. [?]. With much love, I am

Your own

Barrie

Mar. 4th

The trial of the whiskey trader came off this morning. It was distinctly proven that he was trading the article + he was fined 200°° + 3 months imprisonment. I also gave evidence touching the death the death of Spanish[?] Joe. I made, I suppose, the first Post Mortem Examination in these parts. The murder took place during a drunken brawl, + was committed by a man who has the reputation of being the most tenderhearted man in the world. He is also the one we were trying to catch for trading whiskey, but in our present[?] crippled and disabled condition without horses, we could not follow him. Denny came home this afternoon from his mountain trip, he had a very hard time indeed, without blankets. It stormed nearly the whole time he was away + he did not get a shot or even see any game. He had to stay for two days and two nights in an Indian Camp, feeding and sleeping with them. He describes them as being very hospitable freely and gladly giving him of their best, but says they are filthy and that he never wishes to live with them. The same cry of No Mail, we still hope, but in a more saddened manner. I had several Indians as patients to day, one a poor squaw with inflammation of the lungs. I also took a sketch of a buck who came into my room. I must now say Good night.

Feb 24th

Still the same unvarying cry no mail. It stormed wretchedly yesterday. The wind blew cold + strong from the north, blowing [?] [?] snow into deep eddying[?] drifts [?]. I think I had sufficient cause for the Blues. Do you not think so? The horrible things are still hanging around me. Will you try and drive them away? If you only could see how cross I look. I think you would positively be frightened, so for that reason you I am glad you cannot see me. This morning the usual dull round of duty -one chap did not feel like working + played sick- I [?] him + understand that I know what was ailing him, and [?]clined him soundly. I am sorry now that I did not put him under arrest. When I returned to my room, a whole bag[?] of squaws came in. there were at least 12 of them and several children. I gave them a smoke, and [?] the eyes of the children, + after a little while they all got up and went away. Brisbois came up from Fort Kipp today, to wait for the ‘Mail’. How anxiously we scanned the horizon, watching every object we saw moving, hoping against hope that it would bring a Mail. So all Hope is not deadyet. Baker is due here, but what is causing this delay we cannot imagine. Perhaps the Mail has been delayed East of Benton + he is waiting for it, perhaps he never reached Benton, he may have been frozen to death, or killed by Indians. At all events he has not come yet and here we are expecting him. You would be amused to see the dresses of the squaws. A pair of moccasins + leggings, a sort of gown made of blanket with two holes in the side for the arms and one on top for the head, + slightly gathered in around the waist, over this is thrown a blanket or buffalo robe, confined around the waist by a broad leather belt, usually thickly studded with brass headed tacks. If they get too warm they throw off or back the outer robe + display their arms which are well formed and strong. The men are also loosely clad. A pair of moccasins + leggings + a Buffalo Robe or blanket. In the cold they keep the blanket wrapped closely about them, near the fire they sit in their skins. Well my dear the Blues are better, but are still present. Let us hope tomorrow they will have disappeared with the arrival of a Mail – Good night.

Fort Macleod February 21st 1875

Yesterday I sent you a letter. I hope that you will get it safe and within a reasonable time. After sending it- I did nothing – the day turned very chilly and I remained in the house finishing a sketch of a camp on High River sketched in pencil by Capt. Crozier when he was up there on his expedition. I am going to give it to him – I hope that you have no objections. To day after church parade I intended to take a walk but got talking with Crozier and did not get away. After lunch I went to my room and read some Anatomy. Then hearing some singing going on in the Mess Room went in there and joined in. this continued until dinner time. After dinner I came to have a little talk with my darling. And I would like to know how she is, what she is doing and what thinking about. I would like to see her, talk to her. My [?], would I not have a good time. No mail has come in today, but all day long we have been on the qui vive – to see any one coming across the prairies with a bag or wagon load of letters. Several times we saw horsemen a long distance off like specks. The glass revealed an Indian on Roundabout but Allen did not appear. This evening we heard a report through some Indians that a number of wagons were camped on Milk River which is about 85 or 90 miles from here. Allen had probably heard the same and has gone down to Whoop Up to get the mail, should there be any, and bring it up as soon as possible. I am in great spirits tonight – perhaps it is because letters from you are so near – I feel almost certain that I shall hear from you in the course of a day or two. Good night Darling and pleasant dreams.