seeds. The temperature is now at 64 degrees, and, as things grow as if
by magic, we hope they will soon put in an appearance. Oats planted
only a week ago are now an inch above ground. We have had a nice
breeze the last two or three days, so that the mosquitoes have not
worried us so much.

The prettiest things to see here are the prairie fires at night.
The grass is burnt in spring and autumn so as to kill off the old
tufts and allow of the new shoots growing for hay. The fires look
like one long streak of quivering flame, the forked tips of which
flash and quiver in the horizon, magnified by refraction, and on a
dark night are lovely. In the day-time one only sees volumes of
smoke which break the monotony of the landscape, though I don't
know that it is picturesque. With a slight breeze the fires spread
in a marvellous way, even at the rate of eight or nine miles an
hour. The other day A---- and Mr. H----, whilst putting up their
tent, did not perceive how near a fire they themselves had lighted
at some distance was getting, until it was upon them. They then
had to seize hold of everything, pull up the tent pegs as best
they could, and make a rush through the flames, singeing their
clothes and boots a good deal.

The pastures on the burnt prairie are good the whole summer, and
animals will always select them in preference to any other. The
wild ponies, be the snow in winter ever so deep, by pawing it
away, subsist on these young shoots and leaves of grasses, which
are very nutritious and apparently suffer little by the frost,
which only kills the upper leaves but does not injure what is
below. The mirage is also very curious; the air is so clear that
one often sees reflected, some way above the horizon, objects like