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.