time the stage struck a rock or a rut Mr. Stewart would "hoot," until
I began to wish we would come to a hollow tree or a hole in the ground
so he could go in with the rest of the owls.

At last we "arriv," and everything is just lovely for me. I have a
very, very comfortable situation and Mr. Stewart is absolutely no
trouble, for as soon as he has his meals he retires to his room and
plays on his bagpipe, only he calls it his "bugpeep." It is "The
Campbells are Coming," without variations, at intervals all day long
and from seven till eleven at night. Sometimes I wish they would make
haste and get here.

There is a saddle horse especially for me and a little shotgun with
which I am to kill sage chickens. We are between two trout streams, so
you can think of me as being happy when the snow is through melting and
the water gets clear. We have the finest flock of Plymouth Rocks and
get so many nice eggs. It sure seems fine to have all the cream I want
after my town experiences. Jerrine is making good use of all the good
things we are having. She rides the pony to water every day.

I have not filed on my land yet because the snow is fifteen feet deep
on it, and I think I would rather see what I am getting, so will wait
until summer. They have just three seasons here, winter and July and
August. We are to plant our garden the last of May. When it is so I can
get around I will see about land and find out all I can and tell you.

I think this letter is about to reach thirty-secondly, so I will send
you my sincerest love and quit tiring you. Please write me when you
have time.