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