one morning, when he was chasing a last hope of help, I went down to the barn, took out the horses, and went to mowing.  I had enough cut before he got back to show him I knew how, and as he came back manless he was delighted as well as surprised.  I was glad because I really like to mow, and besides that, I am adding feathers to my cap in a surprising way.  When you see me again you will think I am wearing a feather duster, but it is only that I have been said to have almost as much sense as a “mon,” and that is an honor I never aspired to, even in my wildest dreams.

I have done most of my cooking at night, have milked seven cows every day, and have done all the hay-cutting, so you see I have been working.  But I have found time to put up thirty pints of jelly and the same amount of jam for myself.  I used wild fruits, gooseberries, currants, raspberries, and cherries.  I have almost two gallons of the cherry butter, and I think it is delicious.  I wish I could get some of it to you, I am sure you would like it.

We began haying July 5 and finished September 8.  After working so hard and so steadily I decided on a day off, so yesterday I saddled the pony, took a few things I needed, and Jerrine and I fared forth.  Baby can ride behind quite well.  We got away by sunup and a glorious day we had.  We followed a stream higher up into the mountains and the air was so keen and clear at first we had on our coats.  There was a tang of sage and of pine in the air, and our horse was midside deep in rabbit-brush, a shrub just covered with flowers that look and smell like goldenrod.  The blue distance promised many alluring adventures, so we went along singing and simply gulping in summer.  Occasionally a bunch of sage chickens would fly up out of the sagebrush, or a jack rabbit would leap out.  Once we saw a bunch of antelope gallop over a hill, but we were out just to be out, and game didn’t tempt us.  I started, though, to have just as good a time as possible, so I had a fish-hook in my knapsack.

Presently, about noon, we came to a little dell where the grass was as soft and as green as a lawn.  The creek kept right up against the hills on one side and there were groves of quaking asp and cottonwoods that made shade, and service-bushes and birches that shut off the ugly hills on the other side.  We dismounted and prepared to noon.  We caught a few grasshoppers and I cut a birch pole for a rod.  The trout are so beautiful now, their sides are so silvery, with dashes of old rose and orange, their speckles are so black, while their backs look as if they had been sprinkled with gold-dust.  They bite so well that it doesn’t require any especial skill or tackle to catch plenty for a meal in a few minutes.