; but it happened the cow, the hen, and the nanny-goat got drowned on
the way up-country; and ever since then the breeding ain't come up to
early expectations.

Well, it's much the same way with me since my stallion William died--of
trapezium, I think the doctor said. The mares are grinning at me ever
since, and it will take nine months more of this packing contract before
I can buy another stud horse. Then there's the mortgage, and the
graveyard artist has seized your tombstone until I pay for repairing the
angel on top. Life's full of worries, mother.

Your affectionate son,

JESSE.

Rain-storm coming.

P. S.--It's a caution to see how Jones steps out on the home trail.
Or'nary as a muel when she has to climb, she hustles like a little
running horse to git back down to bush grass. All night in the pines
I'll hear her bell through my dreams, while she and her ponies feed,
then the stopping of the bell wakes me up, for them horses doze off from
when the Orion sets until its cocklight when I start my fire. By
loading-time they've got such grass bellies on them that I has to be
quite severe with the lash rope. They hold their wind while I cinch
them, and that's how their stomachs get kicked.

Yes, it's a good life, and I don't envy no man. Still it made me sort of
thoughtful last time as I swung along with that Jones mare snuggling at
my wrist, little Mick snapping rear heels astern, and the sun just
scorching down among the pines. Women is infrequent, and spite of all my
experiences with the late Mrs. Smith--most fortunate deceased, life
ain't all complete without a mate. It ain't no harm to any woman,
mother, if I just varies off my trail to survey the surrounding stock.

Mrs. Jubbin passes herself off for a widow, and all the boys at the mine
take notice that she can cook. Apart from that, she's homely as a
barb-wire fence, and Bubbly Jock, her husband, ain't deceased to any
great extent, being due to finish his sentence along in October, and
handy besides with a rifle.

Then of the three young ladies at Eighty Mile, Sally is a sound
proposition, but numerously engaged to the stage drivers and teamsters
along the Cariboo Road. Miss Wilth, the schoolma'am, keeps a widow
mother with tongue and teeth, so them as smells the bait is ware of the
trap. That's why Miss Wilth stays single. The other girl is a no-account
young person. Not that I'm the sort to shy at a woman for squinting, the
same being quite p