wrapped in the blue veil of distance; the sparse gray-green sage, ugly
in itself, but making complete a beautiful picture; the occasional
glimpse we had of shy, beautiful wild creatures. So much happiness can
be crowded into so short a time. I was glad, though, when Cora Belle's
home became a part of our beautiful picture. It is situated among great
red buttes, and there is a blue lake back of the house. Around the lake
is a fringe of willows. Their house is a low, rambling affair, with a
long, low porch and a red clay roof. Before the house is a cotton-wood
tree, its gnarled, storm-twisted branches making it seem to have the
"rheumatiz." There is a hop-vine at one end of the porch. It had not
come out when we were there, but the dead vine clung hopelessly to its
supports.

Little Cora Belle just bubbled with delight, and her grandparents were
scarcely better than she. Spring house-cleaning was just finished, and
they have company so seldom that they made us feel that we were doing
them a favor by stopping. Poor old "Pa" hobbled out to help put the
team away, and when they came back, Cora Belle asked me out to help
prepare supper, so I left Mr. Stewart with "Granny" and "Pa" to listen
to their recitals and to taste their many medicines. Cora Belle is
really an excellent housekeeper. Her cooking would surprise many
people. Her bread was delicious, and I am sure I never tasted anything
better than the roasted leg of lamb she gave us for supper. I am
ashamed to tell you how much I ate of her carrot jam. From where I sat
I had a splendid view of the sunset across the lake. Speaking of things
singly, Wyoming has nothing beautiful to offer. Taken altogether, it is
grandly beautiful, and at sunrise and sunset the "heavens declare His
glory."

Cora Belle is so animated and so straightforward, so entirely clean in