Mar. 7th

The party did not return until after dinner this evening + are pretty well tired out, and of course unsuccessful. Meanwhile, we at the Fort had not been idle, during the night an Indian dance [?] [?][?] the hearth of one of the braves and cutting a hot[?] [?] their wigwam[s?]. He watches his wife and [?] his [?] close to his head[?]. there was no one in the wigwam at the time but Indians + they were[?] afraid to [?] out for fear they should get shot, etx, [?] [?] [?] escaped. The police or what was left of them [?] after him, + sooner or later will get him. I was told by Col. MacLeod to go and inspect the body of the unfortunate[?] squaw, but they had already buried her and I did not think it worthwhile to go and disturb her. Poor thing. I do not think she was much to blame that [?][?] upon her husband who was always[?][?][?] her to [?][?] at the dances, in order that he might [?] the blankets etc which they gave her, and then he had [?] her [?] away with him, his ill gotten [?][?] her [?] her with a miserable [?], + then came back + shot her. After all this[?] is a pretty wild[?] country. And now I must say Good night.

Mar 6th

There is one piece of good news to tell you and that is that a Mail is to leave here for Benton next Monday. The bearer of this mail is none other that the illustrious John Glen[?] mentioned in ‘From Ocean to Ocean’ as the “typical man”. He is or will not be alone this time, he has brought his wife with him, a pretty little Cree Halfbreed from Fort Edmonton. He is not prospecting now for gold digging, but is back[?] from accumulating the filthy [?] by selling vegetables, butter etc to any who will buy. So you will I hope, before very long get another letter from me. We cannot tell if the letters sent by Baker ever reached Benton, perhaps he was killed on the prairies and the letters [?] scattered to the wind storms. Not a soul has been out here from Benton since our last Mail arrived. It has been blowing hard all day and the wind now is howling outside [?] beating against the house whistling through the many cracks + crevices of our humble homes + [?] mimic [?] of dust upon the floor. Everything in the room after being [?] [?]for two or three minutes becomes grey with dust. The lamps flicker + tremble with a [?] [?] lighten and the mud[?] drops at frequent intervals with a [?] [?] [?] upon the floor. Happy are we if it misses our heads. While I was sitting here quietly writing 8 or 10 men have taken it into their heads to desert. A party is just starting out in pursuit. But my opinion is that they might just as well stay at home. It is very problematical if they catch them, still more problematical if then they can force them back and extremely doubtful what we can do with them when they are brought back. They have been lured away by the tales of the traders about us, of golden visions of high [?] in [?] of the gold diggings. + a general feeling of dissatisfaction with their position[?] pay and work here. I near expect to see them here again. However I must now say Good night it is very late.

Mar. 5th

Nothing going on to day. I made out a table of the temperatures for February. It was above zero most of the time. Welch is going away for a week on leave, he starts tomorrow. I think he does not intend to go far, but merely wishes to break the weary monotony of Barrack life. I went up this afternoon to the Indian Camp to see the sick woman. She was ever so much better. I took a sketch of an [?] of a wigwam not very good but something like [?] the old cry No Mail. Surely something must have happened to the man.

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-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.