"The life here is deuced hard, but I feel certain of reaping a good harvest, and am going to stick to it. At present I am working about two miles from home, cutting down trees for fencing. I then start them down the mountain on a small natural gulch on the snow; they go like greased lightning, and make a terrible noise, which is echoed and re-echoed through the mountains.
"I have just completed my stable which looks boss, logs with mud chinking; next year I intend putting in twenty acres of spring wheat.... As I have just bought some beef-bones I am making a fine stew; which makes my little kitten mew and skip round, being the first taste for her little sides."
"Jan. 1, 1884.
"I wanted, if possible, to begin the new year without having to write for money, but I am now having the hardest time I have ever had; weather excessively cold, and very little grub in the house.... I don't like to give up my best hopes, so if you can let me have the little balance I mentioned, it would make me even.... It was indeed a quiet Christmas for me, at work in the woods at my fencing; and now comes new year, just the same."
"A few days later."
"Sometimes I begin to despair, as the undertaking I have gone into requires more money than I really thought it would.... Don't think by this that I am getting discouraged with the work or prospects—far from it.... It seems to me that I cannot start to write a letter unless I make some allusion to money, but I am so anxious to get straightened up that I cannot help it.... The money has wholly been expended on the ranche, no folly or stupidities have been indulged in, and I feel fully competent to take care of anything I get now.... Winter has set in now nearly two months, and those who can, keep near the stoves. Every day is much the same to me, and all I hope is, that I don't get hurt, or become ill, as getting out timber alone is dangerous work; snow slides, bringing rocks and timber along, may occur at any moment.
"... Time is creeping along, and spring not far off, bringing back the horrid grizzlies and panthers."
"Jan. 10, 1884.
"I am obliged to write in pencil, as my ink has frozen, and adding water to it has taken away nearly all its colour. The snow is nearly three feet deep on the level, making it mighty hard work to get about; however, if it lets up it will make it all the better sleighing. I am still at work in the woods chopping; up to my waist in snow, getting down fencing and firewood; uncomfortable. Though when I have a good soup and get a refreshing sleep I forget all the discomforts. If it snows to-morrow I shall plaster up my shack inside, having bought a bushel of lime.... Every day I learn something new, and expect to do so for years to come. I look forward to a bright future. All farming operations have ceased long ago, and nothing can be done until the spring.
"... I have made several friends out here, but have been very careful who they were, and sometimes by moonlight I skip away five miles and have a chat with a good old timer.... My paint box has not come from Cook City yet; when it does I will try my hand at giving you some faint idea of this superb scenery."