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-March 1st

I forgot that this is a Spring month. It was quite still and bright this morning, but before 12 a high West Wind had set in, and it is now the usual monthly Muster Parade. Then we had breakfast and then the Hospital. This afternoon a tremendous excitement was created by the sight of a large troop of horses and a wagon coming over the hill. All thought it was Baker or Major Walsh with a Mail, but all were doomed to disappointment. It was a lot of Indians loaded with robes and a wagon belonging to our guide Jerry Potts. How [?] we all felt, for we were almost certain that it was a Mail. I entertained nearly the whole afternoon a select[?] party of Indians I was learning a few words from them and training my ears to the sound of their talk. My hospitality only cost me a few pipes of tobacco, for wonderful to tell, they asked for nothing else.

Feb. 28th Sunday -

It is bright and warm to day. It seems as tho’ spring was really beginning to think[?] of coming back to us. This morning after church parade I went down to Conrad’s and had a chat with him. I had intended going to the Indian Camp again to day but did not manage to get my courage up. I could not help feeling that a Mail might arrive while I was away. However none came alltho’ I was in Camp the whole time. We were of course on the lookout the whole day. The evening passed slowly as all evenings do.

Feb. 27th

I again went up to the Blackfoot Camp this time with Welch alone. I intended making a sketch of the camp, but the wind was too cold + numbed my fingers. Crowfoot had quite recovered and was rejoicing accordingly. I promised to operate on the eyes of one of his sons[?]/ I [?] making an artificial pupil, when I can get some instruments. No Mail, oh my.

Feb 26th

This morning shortly after breakfast, I took Welch and Jerry Potts, our interpreter[?] and went up to the Blackfoot Camp to see their Chief Crowfoot, who was quite sick. I gave him some medicine, and then assisted[?] Jerry in endeavoring to persuade a runaway squaw to come back to her husband. We succeeded. Since our arrival the squaws have struck[?], refusing to work and the husbands are in a quandary, if they follow their usual plan they would kill or mutilate the women, + thus keep them in order, but the women would now report this to the Commissioner, + the place would be rather hot[?] for the husbands. It is too bad. Again the day has passed and no Mail. Good night.

Feb 25th

Last night after going to bed, I tossed from side to side all night long what sleep I got was disturbed by frightful dreams, and I wakened this morning with a feeling of utter unrest, + disinclination- to do think or say anything. I did manage to attend sick parade, but that was all – ate nothing day long, but sat moping around. I thought it was the blues, but think now I must have taken cold. I am all right again this evening and am presently going to have some supper. It has been a cold dismal day storming all the time old Crowfoot says this is the last storm of the winter after this has gone, the birds will be coming out + Spring will be here. I hope so sincerely. I heard that my last letter to you has not yet gotten farther than Whoop Up, 25 miles. Quick traveling[?] is it not. That is the way things go in this country. Of course no Mail has come in yet.