letter and mine to Mothie and Phoebe, who are widows living in the
old home. They each took turns writing, so their letters are a complete
record of the years "Zebbie" has been gone. The letters were addressed
to me along with a cordial letter from Mrs. Carter asking me to see
that he got them and to use my judgment in the delivering. I couldn't
go myself, but I wanted to read the letters to him and to write the
answers; so I selected one piece of news I felt would bring him to hear
the rest without his knowing how much there was for him.

Well, the boys brought him, and a more delighted little man I am sure
never lived. I read the letters over and over, and answers were hurried
off. He was dreadfully homesick, but couldn't figure on how he could
leave the "critters," or how he could trust himself on a train. Mr.
Stewart became interested, and he is a very resourceful man, so an old
Frenchman was found who had no home and wanted a place to stay so he
could trap. He was installed at Zebulon Pike's with full instructions
as to each "critter's" peculiarities and needs. Then one of the boys,
who was going home for Christmas to Memphis, was induced to wait for
Mr. Parker and to see him safe to Little Rock. His money was banked for
him, and Mr. Stewart saw that he was properly clothed and made
comfortable for the trip. Then he sent a telegram to Judge Carter, who
met Zebulon Pike at Little Rock, and they had a family reunion in Yell
County. I have had some charming letters from there, but that only
proves what I have always said, that I am the luckiest woman in finding
really lovely people and having really happy experiences. Good things
are constantly happening to me. I wish I could tell you about my happy
Christmas, but one of my New Year's resolutions was to stop loading you
down with two-thousand-word letters.

From something you wrote I think I must have written boastingly to you