Friday, December 18, 2009

Fort MacLeod, Dec. 18th 1874

Now for one of those grand Diary Letters! Do you not feel very much frightened at being the repository of secrets which weigh down to the ground the mighty medicine man of the Palefaces? If you do not – then all I can say is that you do not show a proper respect for the aforesaid man of Power – (& Pills). I feel very happy my darling – happier and more contented than I have for many a long long weary day. Your dear letters have infused new life into me. the fond assurance that you are well in spite of little slips of a sore lip of a cold & a feeling of weakness & tiredness on the slightest exertion fills me with Joy. How have I not imagined you – in all possible ills that human flesh is heir to – having in the wild delirium of fever or knowing in dire pain – and calling on me to help you and I far away & ignorant of it all and even if I knew of it utterly powerless to aid you and unable to come to you. Many a night I have lain awake torturing myself with these painful reflections. But now they give place to a happier train of thought I know my little girl is taking care of herself if not for my sake then for her own and is enjoying herself too. I am so thankful dear, that you have so many kind friends who are able to comfort my darling & distract her thoughts from one gloomy subject like myself – knowing as I do that the distraction is only from the gloomy side of the picture & that pleasant scenes & pleasant friends tried to engender pleasant thoughts, even in one of a melancholy somber turn of mind – how much more then in my own little girl. Last evening I read over all your letters – the first time I only glanced over them looking for the latest news of yourself – last night however I only labeled the envelopes with dates & read them in chronological order. I forgot to tell you that yesterday noon I received another batch of letters – from you written in November from St. Kitts – and one from Ted Covernton. I can only give you nothing for your Tinytype. I am so wholly yours I have nothing left to give you – but my and that will never fail, it is like the old fairy tale of the jug of milk the more they used the more there was to use or little the Widow’s cruse of oil – never failing. Your tobacco pouch needs no apologies & what care I for severe judges on the prairie or elsewhere? did they make the pouch? Could money purchase [ ] one? No--- what then do you mean by making excuses for it, it needs none. At the same time I have no strong objections to supervise the manufacture of the next. I had to stop here for dinner was just being put on the ‘table’ (which is a large packing case raised from the ground on a 10 gallon alcohol case) and consequently I had to decamp after dinner I went down to see my sick man being offered a seat in the sumptuous conveyance I gladly accepted the offer & drove down on a hay rack – four in hand team trotting across the frozen country – no springs. I digested my dinner well. I found my patient ever so much better & a good sign was that he was asking for something to eat. He will I think recover from this attack but I cannot say so much of the next. I had borrowed a rifle from Denny one of the officers - & walked towards camp through the bush on the opposite side of the river – thinking to see some prairie chicken or hares – but I was not fortunate and came in feeling nicely tired & hungry as a wolf. It was now too dark to do anything inside the room so I went over to the hospital and found some putty & began puttying the panes of glass in my window. I continued to do this until it was too dark even for that & then the bugle sounded – for the guard to fall in – and I watched the adjutant inspect it – and the officer of the day march it off & relieve the old guard. It was now tea time – and I fell to with a will. Then taking off my boots & putting on my slippers – do you recollect making them for me? the black ones with the bunch of flowers & my smoking cap – do you remember that? The philosopher. Did you object so much to being caught in a philopoena as you do to losing a bit? Then filling my pipe I lit it of course & began reading the ‘mails’ Jack sent me. then tossing these aside I talk to my own little dear & first of all let me crave your pardon for not having before given you a real diary letter. My reason was the absurd scarcity of paper. You could not get any there was none in the country – but now I have received my stationery (a or e?) I will be very culpable indeed if I do not fulfil my promise. I want to speak about some little things in your letters. I am very much obliged to Miss Louisa Chisholm for making you take so much outdoor exercise – it is good for you. If she would only make you go to bed earlier it would be better still. The idea of trotting about all day and then sitting up to such unconscionable hours – half past one! Why did you not sit up all night? Don’t do it anymore Liz – even to write to me. Poor Frank – I had heard nothing about his illness. His brains were afflicted than his spine. Then he had some reason in what he said about his head going to sleep. Poor fellow. How they used to teaze him about that speech at the Cameron’s. I am so glad he is getting better. Tell him that I wrote to him - & if I had known of his weak state Especially the brain – I would have written a very simple letter – with no word of more than one syllable. I am really very sorry for him – but I feel so happy in hearing from you & also in the knowledge that he is now out of danger that I may be excused from Joking at him.

I am very glad old woman that you have come to like Ned Armour – he is a really good kind hearted Christian thoroughly earnest & as warm hearted as he is undemonstrative. Ned and I were always good friends – especially when by his laziness & being led away by Ned Burke he lost the scholarship at Trinity – since then each year has only cemented our friendship more closely. I am glad now that I am not at Edmonton. Very glad, indeed. Then the only chance of a mail would have been the H.B.Co.’s Wireless Packet & they would not have been able to bring all the mail matter for us. My old horse is picking rapidly & getting quite strong – when I left him to go to Benton I scarce expected to see him again – but since he has been here he has had no work to do but an occasional ride down to Kanonsis where my sick men were – Now old ‘Satan’ has gone to Sun River to pass the Winter. I wonder if he will forget me when he is away.

I too am glad my precious darling that you wrote that letter. You have no idea of the sense of overwhelming comfort it gave to me on the wild prairie. It seemed to make one feel at once that I was not lost that I was in my Father’s keeping – and that the spirit of your prayers hovered over me and that I was not even alone. And since then I have as before talked to your dear handwriting on the envelope – but now I could open it and hear you answer me. You would often have laughed to hear me asking the senseless bit of paper with some ink scratches on it the gravest questions and keeping up a conversation with it. Many a time too Old ‘Satan’ has no doubt cogitated on my sanity. For while we were on the march, he walking along beside me – I would talk to him about you by the hour & when I saw his bright eye of which alas! grew very dim before we got to our journey’s end I glance at me – I would throw my arms around his neck lay my head against his and tell him I wished it was you. The poor old fellow would stop & look at me so sorrowfully – as much as to say – “Now don’t take on so – all will come right in time”. Then perhaps we would see a little piece of the prairie which looked not quite so parched as the rest & we would make towards it and he would try to get a mouthful to appears that dreadful “Tiger” inside of him. Did you ever read “Blades of Grass” by Farjean? You will then know what I mean by the Tiger.

– Good night –