My son was at the Stevens Institute
and both he and Katharine were able to spend their vacations at
David's Island, and altogether, our life there was near to
perfection.
We were doomed to have one more tour in the West, however, and
this time it was the Middle West.
For in the autumn of '96, Jack was ordered to Jefferson
Barracks, Missouri, on construction work.
Jefferson Barracks is an old and historic post on the Mississippi
River, some ten miles south of St. Louis. I could not seem to
take any interest in the post or in the life there. I could not
form new ties so quickly, after our life on the coast, and I did
not like the Mississippi Valley, and St. Louis was too far from
the post, and the trolley ride over there too disagreeable for
words. After seven months of just existing (on my part) at
Jefferson Barracks, Jack received an order for Fort Myer, the
end, the aim, the dream of all army people. Fort Myer is about
three miles from Washington, D. C.
We lost no time in getting there and were soon settled in our
pleasant quarters. There was some building to be done, but the
duty was comparatively light, and we entered with considerable
zest into the social life of the Capital.
