As Lieutenant Isham and I were cantering along at a nice brisk gait we
met Faye, who was returning from the camp on Powder-Face, and it could
be plainly seen that he disapproved of my mount. But he would not turn
back with us, however, and we went on to camp without him. There is
something very fascinating about a military camp--it is always so
precise and trim--the little tents for the men pitched in long
straight lines, each one looking as though it had been given especial
attention, and with all things is the same military precision and
neatness. It was afternoon stables and we rode around to the picket
lines to watch the horses getting their grooming.
When I got home Faye was quick to tell me that I would certainly be
killed if I continued to ride every untrained horse that came along!
Not a very pleasant prospect for me; but I told him that I did not
want to mortify him and myself, too, by refusing to mount horses that
his own classmates, particularly those in the cavalry, asked me to
ride, and that I knew very well he would much prefer to see me on a
spirited animal than a "gentle ladies' horse" that any inexperienced
rider could manage. So we decided that the horse, after all, was not a
vicious beast, and I am to ride him again to-morrow.
Last evening we gave a delightful little dance in the hall in honor of
the officers and their wives who are to go, and the officers who have
come.
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