polished old gentleman, and his wife a very handsome woman who looks
almost as young as her daughter. Miss Dickinson, the general's older
daughter, is very pretty and a fearless rider. In a few days we two
are to commence our morning rides.

How very funny that I should have forgotten to tell you that I have a
horse, at least I hope he will look like a horse when he has gained
some flesh and lost much long hair. He is an Indian pony of very good
size, and has a well-shaped head and slender little legs. He has a fox
trot, which is wonderfully easy, and which he apparently can keep up
indefinitely, and like all Indian horses can "run like a deer." So,
altogether, he will do very well for this place, where rides are
necessarily curtailed. I call him Cheyenne, because we bought him of
Little Raven, a Cheyenne chief. I shall be so glad when I can ride
again, as I have missed so much the rides and grand hunts at Fort
Lyon.

Later: The mail is just in, and letters have come from Fort Lyon
telling us of the death of Lieutenant Baldwin! It is dreadful--and
seems impossible. They write that he became more and more despondent,
until finally it was impossible to rouse him sufficiently to take an
interest in his own life. Faye and I have lost a friend--a real, true
friend. A brother could not have been kinder, more considerate than he
was to both of us always. How terribly he must have grieved over the
ruin of the horse he was so proud of, and loved so well!

CAMP SUPPLY, INDIAN TERRITORY,
September, 1872.

THE heat here is still intense, and it never rains, so everything is