There were
then no hateful laws forbidding soldiers to work in officers'
families; no dreaded inspectors, who put the flat question, "Do
you employ a soldier for menial labor?"
Captain Corliss gave me an old man by the name of Smith, and he
was glad to come and stay with us and do what simple cooking we
required. One of the laundresses let me have her daughter for
nurserymaid, and our small establishment at Camp MacDowell moved
on smoothly, if not with elegance.
The officers' quarters were a long, low line of adobe buildings
with no space between them; the houses were separated only by
thick walls. In front, the windows looked out over the parade
ground. In the rear, they opened out on a road which ran along
the whole length, and on the other side of which lay another row
of long, low buildings which were the kitchens, each set of
quarters having its own.
We occupied the quarters at the end of the row, and a large bay
window looked out over a rather desolate plain, and across to the
large and well-kept hospital. As all my draperies and pretty
cretonnes had been burnt up on the ill-fated ship, I had nothing
but bare white shades at the windows, and the rooms looked
desolate enough. But a long divan was soon built, and some coarse
yellow cotton bought at John Smith's (the cutler's) store, to
cover it.
