ise, some of the ladies would bundle up and go to
walk. But frozen chins, ears and elbows soon made this undesirable, and
we gave up trying the fresh air, unless the mercury rose to 18 below,
when a few of us would take our daily promenade.

We could not complain of our fare, however, for our larder hung full of
all sorts of delicate and delicious things, brought in by the grangers,
and which we were glad to buy. Prairie-chickens, young pigs, venison,
and ducks, all hanging, to be used when desired.

To frappe a bottle of wine, we stood it on the porch; in a few minutes
it would pour crystals. House-keeping was easy, but keeping warm was
difficult.

It was about this time that the law was passed abolishing the
post-trader's store, and forbidding the selling of whiskey to soldiers
on a Government reservation. The pleasant canteen, or Post Exchange, the
soldiers' club-room, was established, where the men could go to relieve
the monotony of their lives.

With the abolition of whiskey, the tone of the post improved greatly;
the men were contented with a glass of beer or light wine, the canteen
was well managed, so the profits went back into the company messes in
the shape of luxuries heretofore unknown; billiards and reading-rooms
were established; and from that time on, the canteen came to be
regarded in the army as a most excellent institution. The men gained in
self-respect; the canteen provided them with a place where they could
go and take a bite of lunch, read, chat, smoke, or play games with their
own chosen friends, and escape the lonesomeness of the barracks.

But, alas! this condition of things was not destined to endure, for the
women of the various Temperance societies, in their mistaken zeal
and woeful ignorance of the soldiers' life, succeeded in influencing
legislation to such an extent that the canteen, in its turn, was
abolished; with what dire results, we of the army all know.

Those estimable women of the W. C. T. U. thought to do good to the army,
no doubt, but through their pitiful ignorance of the soldiers' needs
they have done him an incalculable harm.

Let them stay by their lectures and their clubs, I say, and their other
amusements; let them exercise their good influences nearer home, with a
class of people whose conditions are understood by them, where they can,
no doubt, do worlds of good.

They cannot know the drear monotony of the barracks life on the frontier
in times of peace. I have