We All Felt Accommodating The Postmaster I Saw Was Particularly So And We Concluded To Wait Till Everything Was In, And Perhaps We Would Have Waited For Some One To Write A Letter.

I could not but think it would be a week before another mail day; and still I could not but think these unnecessary morning hindrances were throwing a part of our journey into the night hours.

Returning again to the eastern bank of the river by our fine ferry, we soon passed the spacious residence of Mr. Olmsted, a prominent citizen of the territory. We made a formal halt at his door to see if there were any passengers. Mr. Olmsted has a large farm under good cultivation, and several intelligent young men in his service. In that neighborhood are some other as handsome farms as I ever saw; but I think they are on the reservation, and are cultivated under the patronage of the war department. The winter grain was just up, and its fresh verdure afforded an agreeable contrast with the many emblems of decaying nature. It was in the middle of the forenoon that we reached Belle Prairie, along which are many good farm houses occupied by half-breeds. There is a church and a school-house. In the cemetery is a large cross painted black and white, and from its imposing appearance it cannot fail to make a solemn impression on minds which revere any tangible object that is consigned sacred. A very comfortable-looking house was pointed out to me as the residence of a Catholic priest, who has lived for many years in that section, spreading among the ignorant a knowledge of Christianity, and ministering to their wants in the hour of death.

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