Army Letters from an Officer's Wife, 1871-1888 Part 18

FORT SHAW, MONTANA TERRITORY, May, 1885.

IT is nice to be once more at this dear old post, particularly under such very pleasant circ.u.mstances. The winter East was enjoyable and refreshing from first to last, but citizens and army people have so little in common, and this one feels after being with them a while, no matter how near and dear the relationship may be. Why, one half of them do not know the uniform, and could not distinguish an officer of the Army from a policeman! I love army life here in the West, and I love all the things that it brings to me--the grand mountains, the plains, and the fine hunting. The buffalo are no longer seen; every one has been killed off, and back of Square b.u.t.te in a rolling valley, hundreds of skeletons are bleaching even now. The valley is about two miles from the post.

We are with the commanding officer and his wife, and Hulda is here also.

She was in Helena during the winter and came from there with us. I am so glad to have her. She is so competent, and will be such a comfort a little later on, when there will be much entertaining for us to do. We stopped at Fort Ellis two days to see to the crating of the furniture and to get all things in readiness to be shipped here, this time by the cars instead of by wagon, through mud and water. We were guests of Captain and Mrs. Spencer, and enjoyed the visit so much. Doctor and Mrs.

Lawton gave an informal dinner for us, and that was charming too.

But the grand event of the stop-over was the champagne supper that Captain Martin gave in our honor--that is, in honor of the new adjutant of the regiment. He is the very oldest bachelor and one of the oldest officers in the regiment--a very jolly Irishman. The supper was old-fashioned, with many good things to eat, and the champagne frappe was perfect. I do believe that the generous-hearted man had prepared at least two bottles for each one of us. Every member of the small garrison was there, and each officer proposed something pleasant in life for Faye, and often I was included. There was not the least harm done to anyone, however, and not a touch of headache the next day.

As usual, we are waiting for quarters to avoid turning some one out. But for a few days this does not matter much, as our household goods are not here, except the rugs and things we sent out from Philadelphia.

Faye entered upon his new duties at guard mounting this morning, and I scarcely breathed until the whole thing was over and the guard was on its way to the guardhouse! It was so silly, I knew, to be afraid that Faye might make a mistake, for he has mounted the guard hundreds of times while post adjutant. But here it was different. I knew that from almost every window that looked out on the parade ground, eyes friendly and eyes envious were peering to see how the new regimental adjutant conducted himself, and I knew that there was one pair of eyes green from envy and pique, and that the least faux-pas by Faye would be sneered at and made much of by their owner. But Faye made no mistake, of course. I knew all the time that it was quite impossible for him to do so, as he is one of the very best tacticians in the regiment--still, it is the unexpected that so often happens.

The band and the magnificent drum major, watching their new commander with critical eyes, were quite enough in themselves to disconcert any man. I never told you what happened to that band once upon a time! It was before we came to the regiment, and when headquarters were at Fort Dodge, Kansas. Colonel Mills, at that time a captain, was in command.

It had been customary to send down to the river every winter a detail of men from each company to cut ice for their use during the coming year.

Colonel Mills ordered the detail down as usual, and also ordered the band down. It seems that Colonel Fitz-James, who had been colonel of the regiment for some time, had babied the bandsmen, one and all, until they had quite forgotten the fact of their being enlisted men.

So over to Colonel Mills went the first sergeant with a protest against cutting ice, saying that they were musicians and could not be expected to do such work, that it would chap their lips and ruin their delicate touch on the instruments. Colonel Mills listened patiently and then said, "But you like ice during the summer, don't you?" The sergeant said, "Yes, sir, but they could not do such hard work as the cutting of ice." Colonel Mills said, "You are musicians, you say?" The unsuspicious sergeant, thinking he had gained his point, smilingly said, "Yes, sir!"

But there must have been an awful weakness in his knees when Colonel Mills said, "Very well, since you are musicians and cannot cut ice, you will go to the river and play for the other men while they cut it for you!" The weather was freezing cold, and the playing of bra.s.s instruments in the open air over two feet of solid ice, would have been painful and difficult, so it was soon decided that it would be better to cut ice, after all, and in a body the band went down with the other men to the river without further complaint or protest.

It is a splendid band, and has always been regarded as one of the very best in the Army, but there are a few things that need changing, which Faye will attend to as quickly as possible, and at the same time bring criticism down upon his own head. The old adjutant is still in the post, and--"eyes green" are here!

FORT SHAW, MONTANA TERRITORY, August, 1885.

MY ride this morning was grand! My new horse is beginning to see that I am really a friend, and is much less nervous. It is still necessary, however, for Miller, our striker, to make blinders with his hands back of Rollo's eyes so he will not see me jump to the saddle, otherwise I might not get there. I mount in the yard back of the house, where no one can see me. The gate is opened first, and that the horse always stands facing, for the instant he feels my weight upon his back there is a little flinch, then a dash down the yard, a jump over the acequia, then out through the gate to the plain beyond, where he quiets down and I fix my stirrup.

There is not a bit of viciousness about this, as the horse is gentle and most affectionate at all times, but he has been terribly frightened by a saddle, and it is distressing to see him tremble and his very flesh quiver when one is put upon his back, no matter how gently. He had been ridden only three or four times when we bought him, and probably by a "bronco breaker," who slung on his back a heavy Mexican saddle, cinched it tight without mercy, then mounted with a slam over of a leather-trousered leg, let the almost crazy horse go like the wind, and if he slackened his speed, spurs or "quirt," perhaps both, drove him on again. I know only too well how the so-called breaking is done, for I have seen it many times, and the whole performance is cruel and disgraceful. There are wicked horses, of course, but there are more wicked men, and many a fine, spirited animal is ruined, made an "outlaw"

that no man can ride, just by the fiendish way in which they are first ridden. But the more crazy the poor beast is made, the more fun and glory for the breaker.

Rollo is a light sorrel and a natural pacer; he cannot trot one step, and for that reason I did not want him, but Faye said that I had better try him, so he was sent up. The fact of his being an unbroken colt, Faye seemed to consider a matter of no consequence, but I soon found that it was of much consequence to me, inasmuch as I was obliged to acquire a more precise balance in the saddle because of his coltish ways, and at the same time make myself--also the horse--perfectly acquainted with the delicate give and take of bit and bridle, for with a pacer the slightest tightening or slackening at the wrong time will make him break. When Rollo goes his very fastest, which is about 2:50, I never use a stirrup and never think of a thing but his mouth! There is so little motion to his body I could almost fancy that he had no legs at all--that we are being rushed through the air by some unseen force. It is fine!

Faye has reorganized the band, and the instrumentation is entirely new.

It was sent to him by Sousa, director of the Marine Band, who has been most kind and interested. The new instruments are here, so are the two new sets of uniform--one for full dress, the other for concerts and general wear. Both have white tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs to correspond with the regiment, which are so much nicer than the old red facings that made the band look as if it had been borrowed from the artillery. All this has been the source of much comment along the officers' quarters and in the barracks across the parade ground, and has caused several skirmishes between Faye and the band. It was about talked out, however, when I came in for my share of criticism!

The post commander and Faye came over from the office one morning and said it was their wish that I should take entire charge of the music for services in church, that I could have an orchestra of soft-toned instruments, and enlisted men to sing, but that all was to be under my guidance. I must select the music, be present at all practicings, and give my advice in any way needed. At first I thought it simply a very unpleasant joke, but when it finally dawned upon me that those two men were really in earnest, I was positive they must be crazy, and that I told them. The whole proposition seemed so preposterous, so ridiculous, so everything! I shall always believe that Bishop Brewer suggested church music by the soldiers. Faye is adjutant and in command of the band, so I was really the proper person to take charge of the church musicians if anybody did, but the undertaking was simply appalling. But the commanding officer insisted and Faye insisted, and both gave many reasons for doing so. The enemy was too strong, and I was forced to give in, the princ.i.p.al reason being, however, that I did not want some one else to take charge!

In a short time the little choir was organized and some of the very best musicians in the band were selected for the orchestra. We have two violins (first and second), one clarinet, violoncello, oboe, and ba.s.soon, the latter instrument giving the deep organ tones. There have been three services, and at one Sergeant Graves played an exquisite solo on the violin, "There is a green hill far away," from the oratorio of St. Paul. At another, Matijicek played Gounod's "Ave Maria" on the oboe, and last Sunday he gave us, on the clarinet, "Every valley shall be exalted." The choir proper consists of three sergeants and one corporal, and our tenor is his magnificence, the drum major!

Service is held in a long, large hall, at the rear end of which is a smaller room that can be made a part of the hall by folding back large doors. We were just inside this small room and the doors were opened wide. On a long bench sat the four singers, two each side of a very unhappy woman, and back of the bench in a half circle were the six musicians. Those musicians depended entirely upon me to indicate to them when to play and the vocalists when to sing, therefore certain signals had been arranged so that there would be no mistake or confusion. There I sat, on a hot summer morning, almost surrounded by expert musicians who were conscious of my every movement, and then, those men were soldiers accustomed to military precision, and the fear of making a mistake and leading them wrong was agonizing. At the farther end of the hall the Rev. Mr. Clark was standing, reading along in an easy, self-a.s.sured way that was positively irritating. And again, there was the congregation, each one on the alert, ready to criticise, probably condemn, the unheard-of innovation! Every man, woman, and child was at church that morning, too--many from curiosity, I expect--and every time we sang one half of them turned around and stared at us.

During the reading of the service I could not change my position, turn my head, or brush the flies that got upon my face, without those six hands back of me pouncing down for their instruments. It was impossible to sing the chants, as the string instruments could not hold the tones, so anthems were used instead--mostly Millard's--and they were very beautiful. Not one mistake has ever been made by anyone, but Sergeant Moore has vexed me much. He is our soprano, and has a clear, high-tenor voice and often sings solos in public, but for some unexplainable reason he would not sing a note in church unless I sang with him, so I had to hum along for the man's ear alone. Why he has been so frightened' I do not know, unless it was the unusual condition of things, which have been quite enough to scare anyone.

Well, I lived through the three services, and suppose I can live through more. The men are not compelled to do this church work, although not one would think of refusing. There is much rehearsing to be done, and Sergeant Graves has to transpose the hymns and write out the notes for each instrument, and this requires much work. To show my appreciation of their obedience to my slightest request, a large cake and dozens of eggs have been sent to them after each service. It is funny how nice things to eat often make it easy for a man to do things that otherwise would be impossible!

FORT SHAW, MONTANA TERRITORY, July, 1886.

MY trip to Helena was made alone, after all! The evening before I started Mrs. Todd told me that she could not go, frankly admitting that she was afraid to go over the lonesome places on the road with only the driver for a protector. It was important that I should see a dentist, and Mrs. Averill was depending upon me to bring her friend down from Helena who was expected from the East, so I decided to go alone. The quartermaster gave me the privilege of choosing my driver, and I asked for a civilian, a rather old man who is disliked by everyone because of his surly, disagreeable manner. Just why I chose him I cannot tell, except that he is a good driver and I felt that he could be trusted. The morning we started Faye said to him, "Driver, you must take good care of Mrs. Rae, for she asked for you to drive on this trip," which must have had its effect--that, and the nice lunch I had prepared for him--for he was kind and thoughtful at all times.

It takes two days to go to Helena from here, a ride of forty-five miles one day and forty the second; and on each long drive there are stretches of miles and miles over mountains and through canons where one is far from a ranch or human being, and one naturally thinks of robbers and other unpleasant things. At such places I rode on top with the driver, where I could at least see what was going on around us.

Just before we crossed the Bird-Tail divide we came to a wonderful sight, "a sight worth seeing," the driver said; and more to gratify him than because I wanted to, we stopped. An enormous corral had been put up temporarily, and in it were thousands of sheep, so closely packed that those in the center were constantly jumping over the others, trying to find a cooler place. In the winter, when the weather is very cold, sheep will always jump from the outer circle of the band to the center, where it is warm; they always huddle together in cold weather, and herders are frequently compelled to remain right with them, nights at a time, working hard every minute separating them so they will not smother. One of the men, owner of the sheep, I presume, met us and said he would show me where to go so I could see everything that was being done, which proved to be directly back of a man who was shearing sheep. They told me that he was the very fastest and most expert shearer in the whole territory. Anyone could see that he was an expert, for three men were kept busy waiting upon him. At one corner of the corral was a small, funnel-shaped "drive," the outer opening of which was just large enough to squeeze a sheep through, and in the drive stood a man, sheep in hand, ever ready to rush it straight to the hands of the shearer the instant he was ready for it.

The shearer, who was quite a young man, sat upon a box close to the drive, and when he received a sheep it was always the same way--between his knees--and he commenced and finished the shearing of each animal exactly the same way, every clip of the large shears counting to the best advantage. They told me that he gained much time by the unvarying precision that left no ragged strips to be trimmed off. The docility of those wild sheep was astonishing. Almost while the last clip was being made the sheep was seized by a second a.s.sistant standing at the shearer's left, who at once threw the poor thing down on its side, where he quickly painted the brand of that particular ranch, after which it was given its freedom. It was most laughable to see the change in the sheep--most of them looking lean and lanky, whereas in less than one short minute before, their sides had been broad and woolly. A third man to wait upon the shearer was kept busy at his right carefully gathering the wool and stuffing it in huge sacks. Every effort was made to keep it clean, and every tiny bit was saved.

About four o'clock we reached Rock Creek, where we remained overnight at a little inn. The house is built of logs, and the architecture is about as queer as its owner. Mrs. Gates, wife of the proprietor, can be, and usually is, very cross and disagreeable, and I rather dreaded stopping there alone. But she met me pleasantly--that is, she did not snap my head off--so I gathered courage to ask for a room that would be near some one, as I was timid at night. That settled my standing in her opinion, and with a "Humph!" she led the way across a hall and through a large room where there were several beds, and opening a door on the farther side that led to still another room, she told me I could have that, adding that I "needn't be scared to death, as the boys will sleep right there." I asked her how old the boys were, and she snapped, "How old! why they's men folks," and out of the room she went. Upon looking around I saw that my one door opened into the next room, and that as soon as the "boys" occupied it I would be virtually a prisoner. To be sure, the windows were not far from the ground, and I could easily jump out, but to jump in again would require longer arms and legs than I possessed. But just then I felt that I would much prefer to encounter robbers, mountain lions, any gentle creatures of that kind, to asking Mrs. Gates for another room.

When I went out to supper that night I was given a seat at one end of a long table where were already sitting nine men, including my own civilian driver, who, fortunately, was near the end farthest from me.

No one paid the slightest attention to me, each man attending to his own hungry self and trying to outdo the others in talking. Finally they commenced telling marvelous tales about horses that they had ridden and subdued, and I said to myself that I had been told all about sheep that day, and there it was about horses, and I wondered how far I would have to go to hear all sorts of things about cattle! But anything about a horse is always of interest to me, and those men were particularly entertaining, as it was evident that most of them were professional trainers.

There was sitting at the farther end of the table a rather young-looking man, who had been less talkative than the others, but who after a while said something about a horse at the fort. The mentioning of the post was startling, and I listened to hear what further he had to say. And he continued, "Yes, you fellers can say what yer dern please about yer broncos, but that little horse can corral any dern piece of horseflesh yer can show up. A lady rides him, and I guess I'd put her up with the horse. The boys over there say that she broke the horse herself, and I say! you fellers orter see her make him go--and he likes it, too."

By the time the man stopped talking, my excitement was great, for I was positive that he had been speaking of Rollo, although no mention had been made of the horse's color or gait. So I asked what gait the horse had. He and two or three of the other men looked at me with pity in their eyes--actual pity--that plainly said, "Poor thing--what can you know about gaits"; but he answered civilly, "Well, lady, he is what we call a square pacer," and having done his duty he turned again to his friends, as though they only could understand him, and said, "No cow swing about that horse. He is a light sorrel and has the very handsomest mane yer ever did see--it waves, too, and I guess the lady curls it--but don't know for sure."

The situation was most unusual and in some ways most embarra.s.sing, also. Those nine men were rough and unkempt, but they were splendid hors.e.m.e.n--that I knew intuitively--and to have one of their number select my very own horse above all others to speak of with unstinted praise, was something to be proud of, but to have my own self calmly and complacently disposed of with the horse--"put up," in fact--was quite another thing. But not the slightest disrespect had been intended, and to leave the table without making myself known was not to be thought of.

I wanted the pleasure, too, of telling those men that I knew the gait of a pacer very well--that not in the least did I deserve their pity. My face was burning and my voice unnatural when I threw the bomb!

I said, "The horse you are speaking of I know very well. He is mine, and I ride him, and I thank you very much for the nice things you have just said about him!" Well, there was a sudden change of scene at that table--a dropping of knives and forks and various other things, and I became conscious of eyes--thousands of eyes--staring straight at me, as I watched my bronco friend at the end of the table. The man had opened his eyes wide, and almost gasped "Gee-rew-s'lum!"--then utterly collapsed. He sat back in his chair gazing at me in a helpless, bewildered way that was disconcerting, so I told him a number of things about Rollo--how Faye had taken him to Helena during race week and Lafferty, a professional jockey of Bozeman, had tested his speed, and had pa.s.sed a 2:30 trotter with him one morning. The men knew Lafferty, of course. There was a queer coincidence connected with him and Rollo.

The horse that he was driving at the races was a pacer named Rolla, while my horse, also a pacer, was named Rollo.

All talk about horses ceased at once, and the men said very little to each other during the remainder of the time we were at the table. It was almost pathetic, and an attention I very much appreciated, to see how bread, pickles, cold meat, and in fact everything else on that rough table, were quietly pushed to me, one after the other, without one word being said. That was their way of showing their approval of me. It was unpolished, but truly sincere.

I was not at all afraid that night, for I suspected that the hors.e.m.e.n at the supper-table were the "boys" referred to by Mrs. Gates. But it was impossible to sleep. The part.i.tion between the two rooms must have been very thin, for the noises that came through were awful. It seemed as though dozens of men were snoring at the same time, and that some of them were dangerously "croupy," for they choked and gulped, and every now and then one would have nightmare and groan and yell until some one would tell him to "shut up," or perhaps say something funny about him to the others. No matter how many times those men were wakened they were always cheerful and good-natured about it. A statement that I cannot truthfully make about myself on the same subject!

It was not necessary for me to leave my room through the window the next morning, although my breakfast was early. The house seemed deserted, and I had the long table all to myself. At six o'clock we started on our ride to Helena. I sat with the driver going through the long p.r.i.c.kly-Pear canon, and had a fine opportunity of seeing its magnificent grandeur, while the early shadows were still long. The sun was on many of the higher boulders, that made them sparkle and show brilliantly in their high lights and shadows. The trees and bushes looked unusually fresh and green. We hear that a railroad will soon be built through that canon--but we hope not. It would be positively wicked to ruin anything so grand.

We reached Helena before luncheon, and I soon found Miss Duncan, who was expecting me. We did not start back until the second day, so she and I visited all the shops and then drove out to Sulphur Spring. The way everybody and everything have grown and spread out since the Northern Pacific Railroad has been running cars through Helena is most amazing.

It was so recently a mining town, just "Last Chance Gulch," where Chinamen were digging up the streets for gold, almost undermining the few little buildings, and Chinamen also were raising delicious celery, where now stand very handsome houses. Now Main street has many pretentious shops, and pretty residences have been put up almost to the base of Mount Helena.

The ride back was uneventful, greatly to Miss Duncan's disappointment.

It is her first visit to the West, and she wants to see cowboys and all sorts of things. I should have said "wanted to see," for I think that already her interest in bra.s.s b.u.t.tons is so great the cowboys will never be thought of again. There were two at Rock Creek, but they were uninteresting--did not wear "chaps," pistols, or even big spurs. At the Bird-Tail not one sheep was to be seen--every one had been sheared, and the big band driven back to its range. Miss Duncan is a pretty girl, and unaffected, and will have a delightful visit at this Western army post, where young girls from the East do not come every day. And then we have several charming young bachelors!

FORT SHAW, MONTANA TERRITORY, December, 1887.

THE excitement is about over. Our guests have returned to their homes, and now we are settling down to our everyday garrison life. The wedding was very beautiful and as perfect in every detail as adoring father and mother and loving friends could make it. It was so strictly a military wedding, too--at a frontier post where everything is of necessity "army blue"--the bride a child of the regiment, her father an officer in the regiment many years, and the groom a recent graduate from West Point, a lieutenant in the regiment. We see all sorts of so-called military weddings in the East--some very magnificent church affairs, others at private houses, and informal, but there are ever lacking the real army surroundings that made so perfect the little wedding of Wednesday evening.

The hall was beautifully draped with the greatest number of flags of all sizes--each one a "regulation," however--and the altar and chancel rail were thickly covered with ropes and sprays of fragrant Western cedars and many flowers, and from either side of the reredos hung from their staffs the beautifully embroidered silken colors of the regiment. At the rear end of the hall stood two companies of enlisted men--one on each side of the aisle--in shining full-dress uniforms, helmets in hand. The bride's father is captain of one of those companies, and the groom a lieutenant in the other. As one entered the hall, after pa.s.sing numerous orderlies, each one in full-dress uniform, of course, and walked up between the two companies, every man standing like a statue, one became impressed by the rare beauty and military completeness of the whole scene.

The bride is pet.i.te and very young, and looked almost a child as she and her father slowly pa.s.sed us, her gown of heavy ivory satin trailing far back of her. The orchestra played several numbers previous to the ceremony--the Mendelssohn March for processional, and Lohengrin for recessional, but the really exquisite music was during the ceremony, when there came to us softly, as if floating from afar over gold lace and perfumed silks and satins, the enchanting strains of Moszkowski's Serenade! Faye remained with the orchestra all the time, to see that the music was changed at just the right instant and without mistake. The pretty reception was in the quarters of Major and Mrs. Stokes, and there also was the delicious supper served. Some of the presents were elegant.

A case containing sixty handsome small pieces of silver was given by the officers of the regiment. A superb silver pitcher by the men of Major Stokes's company, and an exquisite silver after-dinner coffee set by the company in which the groom is a lieutenant. Several young officers came down from Fort a.s.siniboine to a.s.sist as ushers, and there were at the post four girls from Helena. An army post is always an attractive place to girls, but it was apparent from the first that these girls came for an extra fine time. I think they found it!

They were all at our cotillon Monday evening, and kept things moving fast. It was refreshing to have a new element, and a little variety in partners. We have danced with each other so much that everyone has become more or less like a machine. Faye led, dancing with Miss Stokes, for whom the german was given. The figures were very pretty--some of them new--and the supper was good. To serve refreshments of any kind at the hall means much work, for everything has to be prepared at the house--even coffee, must be sent over hot; and every piece of china and silver needed must be sent over also. Mrs. Hughes came from Helena on Sat.u.r.day and remained with me until yesterday.

You know something of the awful times I have had with servants since Hulda went away! First came the lady tourist--who did us the honor to consent to our paying her expenses from St. Paul, and who informed me upon her arrival that she was not obliged to work out--no indeed--that her own home was much nicer than our house--that she had come up to see the country, and so forth. We found her presence too great a burden, particularly as she could not prepare the simplest meal, and so invited her to return to her elegant home. Then came the two women--the mother to Mrs. Todd, the daughter to me--who were insulted because they were expected to occupy servant's rooms, and could not "eat with the family"--so Mrs. Todd and I gave them cordial invitations to depart.

Then came my Russian treasure--a splendid cook, but who could not be taught that a breakfast or dinner an hour late mattered to a regimental adjutant, and wondered why guard mounting could not be held back while she prepared an early breakfast for Faye. After a struggle of two months she was pa.s.sed on. A tall, angular woman with dull red hair drawn up tight and twisted in a knot as hard as her head, was my next trial. She was the wife of a gambler of the lowest type, but that I did not know while she was here.

One day I told her to do something that she objected to, and with her hands clinched tight she came up close as if to strike me. I stood still, of course, and quietly said, "You mustn't strike me." She looked like a fury and screamed, "I will if I want to!" She was inches taller than I, but I said, "If you do, I will have you locked in the guardhouse." She became very white, and fairly hissed at me, "You can't do that--I ain't a soldier." I told her, "No, if you were a soldier you would soon be taught to behave yourself," and I continued, "you are in an army post, however, and if you do me violence I will certainly call the guard." Before I turned to go from the room I looked up at her and said, "Now I expect you to do what I have told you to do." I fully expected a strike on my head before I got very far, but she controlled herself. I went out of the house hoping she would do the same and never return, but she was there still, and we had to tell her to go, after all. I must confess, though, that the work she had objected to doing she did nicely while I was out. Miller told me that she had three pistols and two large watches in her satchel when she went away.

Then came a real treasure--Scotch Ellen--who has been with us six months, and has been very satisfactory every way. To be sure she has had awful headaches, and often it has been necessary for some one to do her work. She and the sergeant's wife prepared the supper for the german, and everything was sent to the hall in a most satisfactory way--much to my delight. Nothing wrong was noticed the next morning either, until she carried chocolate to Mrs. Hughes, when I saw with mortification that she looked untidy, but thinking of the confusion in her part of the house, I said nothing about it.