henever I look out of the car window.
Switzerland which I have never seen is a spot on the map compared to
this. The mountains go up with snow on one side and black rows of
trees and rocks on the other, and the clouds seem packed down between
them. The sun on the snow and the peaks peering above the clouds is
all new to me and so very beautiful that I would like to buy a mountain
and call it after my best girl. I will finish this when I get to
Creede. I expect to make my fortune there. DICK.

CREEDE, March 7.

A young man in a sweater and top boots met me at the depot and said
that I was Mr. Davis and that he was a young man whose life I had
written in "There was 90 and 9." He was from Buffalo and was editing a
paper in Creede. He said I was to stop with him-- Creede is built of
new pine boards and lies between two immense mountains covered with
pines and snow. The town is built in the gulley and when the spring
freshets come will be a second Johnstown. Faber, the young man, took
me to the Grub State Cabin where I found two most amusing dudes and
thoroughbred sports from Boston, Harvard men living in a cabin ten by
eight with four bunks and a stove, two banjos and H O P E. They own
numerous silver mines, lots, and shares, but I do not believe they have
five dollars in cash amongst them. They have a large picture of myself
for one of the ORNAMENTS and are great good fellows. We sat up in our
bunks until two this morning talking and are planning to go to Africa
and Mexico and Asia Minor together.--Lots of love.

DICK.

Very happy indeed to be back in his beloved town, Richard returned to
New York late in March, 1892, and resumed his editorial duties. But on
this occasion his stay was of particularly short duration, and in May,
he started for his long-wished-for visit to London. The season there
was not yet in full swing, and after spending a few days in town,
journeyed to Oxford, where he settled down to amuse himself and collect
material for his first articles on English life as he found it. In
writing of this visit to Oxford, H. J. Whigham, one of Richard's
oldest friends, and who afterward served with him in several campaigns,
said:

"When we first met Richard Harding Davis he was living, to all
practical purposes, the life of an undergraduate at Balliol College,
Oxford. Anyone at all conversant with the customs of universities,
especially with the idiosyncrasies of Oxford, knows that for a p