May 22nd

I slept well and sound last night but wakened up about sun rise and from then until 9 o’clock I dozed and dreamed – I thought that you and I were taking a voyage down the Old Man’s River – we began way up in the mountains and came down running rapids, shooting immense waterfalls in hourly danger from the Indians, from wild beasts and from sunken rocks. Finally I got hurt and the boat drifted helplessly along until I gave the paddle to you and from thence all dangers and hardship seemed past – we joined the Belly River, then the Saskatchewan then Lake Winnipeg, our boat growing larger and larger – passing Lake Winnipeg – we came to Superior and down the chain of Lakes to the St. Lawrence and so to the Sea. I thought immense crowds came to the banks and shores to see us pass – wherever we stopped thousands of sick and lame came to be cured – and it was you that healed them and to you were vociferated the thanks and blessings of the thankful crowd. I was lying down in the boat and looking at you so pleased and happy at seeing them look to you for help, and I thought you did not know that it was I that healed them. At last we came to England, and I took my degrees there – still every one seemed to think it was you who took them. Finally I thought I died – and you who had tended me so kindly and carefully died too – we were not buried because we were alone on the broad ocean, but we took wings and flew to the land and lived together on a high and lonely mountain, and taking long flights from there we accomplished a vast deal of good in many ways. And then we both rose to heaven and I was refused admittance – but by your prayers they let me in – and having entered we were exalted high above the other angels. I never seemed now to think that I owed it all to you, but we were happy so “happy for ever and ever ------Was it not a queer dream?

Well to return to facts. Capt. Winder and I left here taking some lunch, at 7.30 a.m. The voyage down the river was delightful it was a warm bright sunshiny day – the trees lining the banks were all so beautiful and green. Quantities of ducks and geese started up from each side of us, but as we were obliged to be down at Fort Kipp as soon as possible and did not know within twenty miles how far it was we did not stop to hunt them. Some of the cut banks presented a most curious conformation in their strata – all in wavy lines – we saw some coal and a great deal of sandstone – in places the prairie 100 or 150 ft. above us had sunk down to the level of the river in huge land slips – the course of the river is very tortuous – in some places very swift rapids – but generally very free from rocks. We stopped at 11 o’clock in a nice little clump of bushes and had our lunch, it was a real picnic. Our lunch however consisted of nothing but some bread and cold bacon and a cup of the river water – we were quite used to both and very hungry too so it tasted very good. We stopped for about an hour, to rest and have a smoke and then proceeded down. A high wind had now sprung up and in some places bothered us by blowing us from one side of the river to the other. In one of the most dangerous places on the river where the channel was narrowed by huge rocks on either side and sunken ones in the middle and the current ran [ ? ] and foaming down like a mill race – the wind was so strong that blowing dead ahead us and we aided by the current and paddling with all our might remained stationary. Gradually we began to descend and at last got down into a sheltered nook and then the stream took us down like a flash. We arrived at Fort Kipp about 2 o’clock, found our horses not yet arrived – they came in about 3 and after feeding them grain and hay – we left at 5 o’clock and arrived at Fort McLeod at 6.30. I rode old Satan, who is now full of life and beginning to get fat he canters beautifully his trot is rather rough. He is a fine old chap. I am going to show him your photograph to see if he will remember all that I have told him.

I had sick parade at eight o’clock last evening after we came in, and then retired early being as you may well imagine very tired.

Fort Benton September 24th 1874

Dearest Lizzie

It is now a long time since I wrote to you. I am glad to say that I still continue as well as ever and are getting stronger & fatter every day. I never was better in any life. I am brown as an Indian. My nose I firmly believe to be made after the fashion of an onion, the successive layers of skin that have peeled off would make a bushel of onions. We have pushed on from the Cypress Hills, sometimes with water sometimes not – grass was every where scarce – the weather is as fine as weather could be. On the last of September I purchased a horse, large, well formed, black, and have given him the high sounding title of “Satan” at one time he was the finest horse in the force – his only vice that he shied. Poor fellow what with no oats no grass no water – I am afraid he is a gone horse. He carried me very well to the Sweet Grass Hills – and is now quietly grazing. He is gentle knows his name & will follow me like a dog. Our choice of guides was most unfortunate not one of them knew the country through which we passed, our course was run by the compass & Palliser’s map – whichs not correct – we struck the South Saskatchewan a day sooner than we expected, the guide told us it was the Forks – the Bow & Belly Rivers – we knew better – four or five days after this we did strike the Bow River – in fact went beyond it & it was by accident that we discovered it – it is a lonely desert place one island with a few trees on it – high banks and not a soul near it – no grass – no road – we travelled 15 or 20 miles up the Belly River and sent a party up the Bow River for 80 miles – they found a party a Indians on the war path – put no fort[,] no road[,] no whiskey smugglers[.] we then retraced our steps and went south & struck the Boundary line at the Sweet Grass Hills or 3 Buttes. Here we were to pass the winter – two troops went on to Garry & two to remain and build huts for the winter & Col. French, Major McLeod & myself came down with a few carts to Fort Benton to get supplies. Our plans have slightly changed since we came here. We will now probably winter somewhere on the Belly River. Your letters if directed to me at Fort Benton will reach me – we will have a mail about once a month, perhaps not quite so often. I believe there is a settlement of Half Breeds near where we will be stationed & I can get them to make moccasins etc. for me. The Col. found a letter here for him directing him to make his headquarters at Fort Pelly – we will be much better off than they. One day while travelling towards the Buttes, I went off the line of march to hunt. I got quite lost – did not know where the trail was could see nothing but the bleak dreary wilderness – my companion a little dog had left me. I climbed a hill & looked out then another then another could see nothing the Buttes I could see - & had determined to make for them a matter of about ten miles. I came to this determination and though I would like some dinner so I shot at an antelope and missed him and hunting after him I saw what I thought was a heard of buffalo near a lake. I made for that and found the train stopping for dinner – they were just moving off. I got no dinner but was only too thankful to get in to mind that. I felt so lonely out on the prairie that I felt justified in opening your letter and my darling I can only thank most fervently the good God who put the thought of writing it in your head. You have no idea [(]can have none[)] of the immense comfort it was to me. You know I carry your little testament with me always. I seldom have time in the mornings to read it and at night we have no candles so on the march I get ahead of the troops sit down & read until they come up. I have looked at your dear handwriting again and again, but have never opened the envelope until then on the prairie lost and alone. Tell Mannie Cameron if he writes to direct to Fort Benton. I want you to ask him a question or two for me. No.1 Where is the supply of Sulphate of Alum obtained for the United States and Canada to what uses is it applied & is it expensive?

I must close before I have finished half of what I wish to say but the mail closes at 9 o’clock and it now wants but a few moments of that. We saw on our way down here swarms of Buffalo more than 50000 in one herd the plains for miles as far as we could see were black with them – we passed right thro’ their midst.

Capt. Miles wished me to say that he would like his wife to know he is well and on his road back to Fort Garry (as he thinks) – give my love to your Father Mother and all – Remember me to the Slotesburgs & give my kind regards to the Camerons.

Goodbye my darling Lizzie.
Yours forever
Barrie.