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.

March 3rd

It is pleasant + warm, the air is as balmy as the spicy breezes[?]. I was busy all the morning working at the thermometrical observations for the month of February. We have confined another whiskey trader he is a half breed named Alex Gardy[?], his trial comes off sometime this week. This afternoon we had a fine game of base ball, the ball being made by a member of the force + the bats, pieces of green wood, we[?] enjoyed ourselves very much. No Mail yet. Is it not tiresome? Oh Dear…

Mar.2

Brooks has had another bad turn and for a couple of days has been pretty bad, but I am glad to say is now doing better. Last night we had our monthly Mess Meeting. I was again forced to continue as secretary. The accounts required looking over and so were postponed[?] until tonight + then accepted + approved. No Mail has yet come in. Two[?] wagons from High River came in this morning, with the news of a murder + brought the body of the murdered man, struck in the head with a bar of iron + died after 3 or 4 days of suffering. The murderer is not to be found. Another whiskey trader has also been routed out of the place[?] + his stock seized so we are doing some good. It is late and I must say Good night.

Feb 17th

I am afraid that this can scarcely be called a ‘diary letter’. So many days have passed without my writing anything in it. I leave you to imagine the humdrum life I am leading, every day the same thing. On Monday night Crozier Welch Denny and I went up to Crowfoot’s Camp to the dance. The evening did not pass quite so pleasantly as former ones perhaps because we were becoming satiated with so much dissipation. Crozier Welch + Denny were each kissed by various squaws + had to give them a pledge, we returned to the Fort early. I was not called upon to dance. I was just as well pleased as tho’ I had danced at the evening. On Tuesday Waxy’s trial was finished and he was convicted of indirectly trading whiskey to the Indians, + sentenced to a fine of $500.00 + six months imprisonment. He is now cogitating over his misdemeanors in the Guard Room. Smith was fined $300.00 and six months imprisonment. The warrant for his imprisonment was held over + he is to leave the country, not to come back within a year. One or two minor cases also came off relative to the possession of horses. Tuesday night my tooth began aching + kept me awake the greater part of the night. It has continued to ache all day to day + is still pounding away. It did not prevent me going with Col. McLeod to the Willow Creek Bluff about ¾ miles from the Camp to signal to some of the officers. A horse race came off this afternoon between Allen’s + Kanouse’s horses. Kanouse won. I saw the race from the Bluff. I took another sketch of the exterior of the Fort of Col. McLeod, he is going to send it to his sister Mrs Baldwin + to have it Photographed. My tooth aches so I can scarcely sit still, nothing does it any good, but rubbing the gum with strong Tr[?] Sodium. I must tell you before I stop that it is raining to night, a slight drizzle, but enough to show you that now, it is not very cold. Good night darling. I hope soon to hear from you. Perhaps by tomorrow you will have received my last letters. I do not know when this will meet your eye, but am afraid it will not be for some time. Good night once more.

Feb. 1st 1875

Capt. Winder came back last night about 11 o’clock. The arrival of two or three wagons loaded with robes from the North of us, was reported to Col. McLeod who had information that these robes had been obtained by trading alcohol for them. He sent down accordingly and put a guard over them and this morning Mr. Weatherwaxy, the proprietor of the robes, was called to answer the charge of trading whiskey. As witnesses we called in the teamsters who brought the robes down. They proved nothing conclusive, and now Capt. Crozier is getting ready to go off tomorrow morning to this post on the Bow River to get material witnesses. Meanwhile the unfortunate robes have been detained and will be held until the Innocence of Mr. Weatherwaxy is proven, which I do not think will be the case. This affair has quite entertained us. It has given us a fresh subject to talk about.

Jany. 15th

My last letter to you has come back to me. The man who was to have taken it has not yet started + so orders were given to have the mail returned. I do not know now when it will go out. To day has been cold but so bright and beautiful that one could scarce feel the cold + another thing, which is good news, the coal has come. So now we need no longer shiver over sputtering fires. An expedition started out to day after some whiskey traders. I do not know yet what success they have had. A larger Indian Camp moved down today into our neighbourhood. There have been quite a number of squaws and young bucks around the square one or two of the Chiefs were also down looking at the Fort. I feel as tho’ I were going to have a fit of the blues. I am trying to work them off by inflicting upon you a lot of writing which I feel to be most disconnected, but I cannot look it over. I don’t feel unwell nor exactly miserable, but I do so long to see you, so yearn for the sound of your voice, I am almost homesick. It is so utterly lonely out here, not a single person that I care two straws about, nor I suppose do they care about me. However ‘It is a long lane that has no turning’ and one of these days I will come back to you, and you will be glad to see me, and we will then spend many happy moments, days, years together, will not we?