beverage to me, brought up in a blue-ribbon community, where
wine-bibbing and whiskey drinking were rated as belonging to only
the lowest classes. To be sure, my father always drank two
fingers of fine cognac before dinner, but I had always considered
that a sort of medicine for a man advanced in years.

Taken all in all, it is not to be wondered at if I saw not much
in those few days besides bright buttons, blue uniforms, and
shining swords.

Everything was military and gay and brilliant, and I forgot the
very existence of practical things, in listening to the dreamy
strains of Italian and German music, rendered by our excellent
and painstaking orchestra. For the Eighth Infantry loved good
music, and had imported its musicians direct from Italy.

This came to an end, however, after a few days, and I was obliged
to descend from those heights to the dead level of domestic
economy.

My husband informed me that the quarters were ready for our
occupancy and that we could begin house-keeping at once. He had
engaged a soldier named Adams for a striker; he did not know
whether Adams was much of a cook, he said, but he was the only
available man just then, as the companies were up north at the
Agency.

Our quarters consisted of three rooms and a kitchen, which formed
one-half of a double house.