He is quite different here to in France or on the boat; he has a quiet dignity and ease, and that perfect calm of a man of the world on his own ground. I think there must be something Irish about him, too, for he has a strain of sentiment and melancholy which can come directly after his most brilliant burst of spirits. We stayed there talking for about an hour undisturbed, and then the Senator opened the door and joined us.
"You are as quiet as mice, my children," he said, "what have you been doing?"
And Nelson looked up at him, his eyes full of mist.
"Just dreamin'," he said. "All on a bright spring morning."
And now I must stop, Mamma, for this must be posted at the next station to catch the mail.
Your affectionate daughter,
ELIZABETH.
OSAGES CITY
THE GRAND HOTEL, OSAGES CITY, Wednesday.
Dearest Mamma,—We arrived here last night and I am still enjoying myself more than I can say, and just after I wrote yesterday such an interesting thing happened. At lunch the Senator told us about a strange character who abides in these parts—an almost outlaw who has done such wild things and gets his money from heaven knows where. He is supposed to have murdered several men, and every incredible story fit for pirates of the Spanish Main has been tacked on to him—only of the land, not the sea. He is called "Ruby Mine Bill;" isn't that a nice name! And no one cares to "run up against him," because he is such a wonderful shot and does not hesitate to practise a little when things annoy him.