April 25th

The Col. is not back yet, we do not expect him for some days. The Indians however brought in a report that the Col. had come back to Fort Kipp. We had Church parade as usual today. This afternoon I took a walk down to the River, and watched the rapid water, and to my delight found some willows really beginning to put out their leaves, the first that I have seen. I found a cozy little place just over the river in a small clump of trees and bushes, that I am going to turn into a private retreat – and in the summer will have a nice quiet little place to take your dear letters and read them. I will make a seat there, just under a bush and imagine that you are in the bush. I will not make a second seat for you, for some one else might come and sit in it and I don’t want them to do that.

The Col. came in this evening about an hour after dinner. Crozier came in a little while before him. Poor Crozier has had the blues all winter long and added to that or rather in consequence thereof he has come home from this little trip thoroughly done out. The poor chap is quite sick, and so nervous and restless he can neither eat, sleep nor keep quiet. Nor will he do as I tell him. I am afraid that he is going in for a regular seize. It seems that the Col. asked for several Indians as guides to the Indians who had taken the horses and also to be able to identify the horses taken. Instead of doing as he told them – a war party of twenty came out on foot after him, and never caught up to him – told him too that the Indians had struck Northwards when they had come South and East. So the Col. finding it would be impossible to overtake them and also to identify the horses if overtaken concluded to come home again.

April 24th

Last night Jerry Potts, our interpreter, who owns quite a large number of horses and which have been grazing around the immediate vicinity of the Fort, suffered from the Indian depredators having 47 head stolen. He tracked them today for about 25 miles and found two which had been killed and had the arrows still sticking in them. They know from the arrows that they were Assineboines who had stolen the horses. And as they had made straight for the Border it is believed that it was the same party who had attacked John Healy, a trader on the Maria’s River and shut him up in his Fort for three days. The Indians being afraid to come into the corral of the Fort where his horses were – endeavoured to set fire to the place, but the logs being green would not burn. So after three days siege they retired. This man was entirely alone having sent his teams to Fort Benton and remaining with some horses in this Post on the Maria’s River. The Indians numbered 250.

Fort Macleod April 23rd ‘75

My darling Lizzie

Major Walsh and party left yesterday and took our letters with him. He expects to get into Sun River on Monday, remain there a week and come out again with all our horses. I told you of the fright about the Indians at Whoop Up did I not? There [sic] fright was not in vain – hardly had Major Walsh started when news was brought to the Col. That over 40 head of horses had been stolen from the “Blood” Indians in the vicinity of Whoop Up. An expedition was organized immediately consisting of 18, the Col., Capt. Crozier and Mr. Welch – taking 10 days’ provisions with them. And they left last evening, expecting to have to go to the Cypress Hills. We nearly had a fire also. The wind was very high, and a spark had lodged in the roofing of Cpt. Winder’s room and there been fanned by the breeze until it had made some headway. A few buckets of water however soon put it out. The assembly sounded and the men were marched at the double to form a continuous line to the river and buckets passed from one to another. We soon had water enough to fill every thing available. There was no damage done.

March 20th

I did not finish Jack's letter last night. I was interrupted by the advent of Welch & Crozier who insisted on my going into the Mess Room to play Casino, so I went + spent some time there. This morning tho' I got up decently early. I had some little things to do which kept me fully occupied until 9 o'clock, so I did not write to you this morning. At one o'clock today, the trial of the would be deserters took place. Evidence was taken sufficiently to hear that they were trying to desert and they were [?] and for some time. During the trial I took my sketch book and made a sketch of the grave of Parks[?] who died shortly after our arrival here. His friends had written out that they would like to see the place he was buried in. Then I sat down to a chess problem and worked at that until dinner time. After dinner I had a bath. You know this is "Aunt Elizabeth's" eight. How quickly time does fly. Easter is almost here, tomorrow will be Palm Sunday. Your birthday is somewhere about here. I have an idea that it is today. You know you never told me when it was. [?] it is I wish you many many happy[?] returns[?] of it, and hope that the next one I may be with you to spend the day. Oh darling how I do long to see you again. The intense yearning craving desire for you is at time almost unbearable. I can scarcely allow myself the luxury of thinking for it makes me wild and discredited and I might do something rash.

Now do you like this [?]? [?] [?] made from the "Graphine"(sic) into paper. I have run our of black ink and did not notice it until too late to get any more. I have your letter of the 7th Dec. in front of me. You poor silly child. The idea of your bothering about sending me anything. Don't you know that your letters are inexpressibly dear to me that nothing more could be wished for except, what do you think? Those [?] of Longfellow remind me of some I saw in [?] [?] chillingly, and which you remember I tried to find an anchor for. Do you think you can find out who wrote them?

The desire of the moth for the star. The night for the morrow. The hope for something afar. From the sphere of our sorrow.

I quote from memory but those are something like the words. I am so sorry to hear that your mother has been so unwell. I hope that long 'ere[?] this she has quite recovered her [?] health. I am afraid that Bridget will never make a fortune at Fortune-telling, although she seems to have been wisely obscure as to the time when I should put in my sudden appearance. Lizzie you know that I can never doubt you. If you find Mr. Hodder's[?] drives give you pleasure, by all means go with him and only think that I am too glad that you are having pleasure. You know too, better than I can tell you, that it matters little what people say + of course they will talk, so see for yourself and never think but what I am. Your own undoubting Barrie.

Mar. 19th

I wonder what you are doing now, it is just 8 o'clock. I suppose you have finished breakfast and are either sitting working or going down town. Glen will soon be going in to Benton as the snow will not now last long and he will have mild weather for his journey. 9.30p.m. Yes Glen sent word that he expects he expects to leave next Monday, so that will be a chance to send letters again. To day the deserters who were recaptured were to have been tried, but owing[?] to our not having the necessary evidence, the trial was postponed. Brisbois came up this evening from For Kipp, he is part of the evidence. I am writing to Jack + will say good night to you for the present in order to finish this letter. 11p.p. I must have the last word with you, so goodnight and sweet dreams.

Mar. 18th

Well, here I am again, the sun is streaming in my bedroom window in a delicious flood of light. The cold has at last succumbed to the warm South West + the snow is almost gone. Last night about 7.30[4.30?] the concert began, some of the songs were very good and [?], others are very amusing. Beatty (the man who deserves the [?] medal) was dressed as a darkey[?!?] + burnt [?,] his appearance frightened Mrs. Glen the halfbreed wife of John Glen, that she rushed shrieking from the room. The supper too was a success and tho' the graces did not [?] off the day passed well. 11.30 p.m. I must say goodnight.

Mar. 17th

The 17th of "Ould Ireland." Long may she wave. I got up this morning, and it was pretty cold, in fact we might say very cold. I suppose it thawed in Toronto[,] it usually does. I intend going put + trying a shot at the sun. Do not think darling from that expression that I have taken leave of my senses, I merely intend to say that I am going to try and take the sun's altitude to find the time. I must now go to breakfast. You will see by this that I did not get up very early.

I could not after all let the night pass without saying at least good night. The day passed very quietly, everyone wearing in their hat or button hole a sprig of green, plucked from the logs wherewith our houses are built, which have sprouted and thrown out innumerable little green branches. Good night.