In A Few Days The Hospital Will Be Turned Over To The Post-Surgeon, And The Beautiful Ward Will Be Filled With Iron Cots And Sick Soldiers, And Instead Of Delicate Perfumes, The Odor Of Nauseous Drugs Will Pervade Every Place.

I have been too busy to ride during the past week, but am going out this afternoon with the chaplain's young daughter, who is a fearless rider, although only fourteen.

King is very handsome now and his gait delightful, but he still requires most careful management. He ran away with me the other day, starting with those three tremendous strides, but we were out on a level and straight road, so nothing went wrong. All there was for me to do was to keep my seat. Lieutenant Perkins and Miss Campbell were a mile or more ahead of us, and after he had passed them he came down to a trot, evidently flattering himself that he had won a race, and that nothing further was expected of him.

He jumps the cavalry hurdles beautifully - goes over like a deer, Hal always following directly back of him. Whatever a horse does that dog wants to do also. Last spring, when we came up from Camp Supply, he actually tried to eat the corn that dropped from King's mouth as he was getting his supper one night in camp. He has scarcely noticed Powder-Face since the very day King was sent to me, but became devoted to the new horse at once.

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