The Park Never Had Looked So Utterly
Walled In; It Was Fearful In Its Loneliness, The Ghastliest Of
White Peaks Lay Sharply Outlined Against The Black Snow Clouds,
The Bright River Was Ice Bound, The Pines Were All Black, The
World Was Absolutely Shut Out.
How can you expect me to write
letters from such a place, from a life "in which nothing
happens"?
It really is strange that neither Evans nor Edwards
come back. The young men are grumbling, for they were asked to
stay here for five days, and they have been here five weeks, and
they are anxious to be away camping out for the hunting, on which
they depend. There are two calves dying, and we don't know what
to do for them; and if a very severe snow-storm comes on, we
can't bring in and feed eight hundred head of cattle.
Saturday.
The snow began to fall early this morning, and as it is
unaccompanied by wind we have the novel spectacle of a smooth
white world; still it does not look like anything serious. We
have been gradually growing later at night and later in the
morning. To-day we did not breakfast till ten. We have been
becoming so disgusted with the pickled pork, that we were glad to
find it just at an end yesterday, even though we were left
without meat for which in this climate the system craves. You
can fancy my surprise, on going into the kitchen, to find a dish
of smoking steaks of venison on the table.
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