The cabin is on the corner of Wallace and Hamilton Streets, next door to the city butcher. The cabin has a dirt roof. There is a floor in it, and that is better than some have. It is neat and clean, which is a comfort. Men have not bached in it. We found quite a budget of letters at the post-office, the most important of which are from brother Mac and Frank Kerfoot. Mac’s letter: CINCINNATI, August 10, 1865. _Dear Mother, Sister and Brothers_: It is with fear and trembling that I pen this letter. I have not heard from you for more than a month, telling me you had decided to go to Montana. The papers are full of accounts of Indian depredations. I have realized to the fullest extent that “Hope deferred maketh the heart sick.” In your last letter you had decided to go to Virginia City, so I will direct this letter to be held until called for. I am glad you are not going any farther West. I cannot conceive why you wanted to go to that far off wild Western country. I do wish you had stopped at Omaha, or St. Jo, or even Denver. It would have been better than Montana. With sincerest love to all, Your son and brother, MAC. But oh, the sad, sad news comes in Frank’s letter. Neelie is dead. Oh, the anguish of soul, the desolateness of heart that one sentence gives expression to. Frank’s letter: GREEN RIVER, Wyoming Ter., Aug. 18. _Dear Miss Sallie_--I write to tell you of our very great sorrow. Precious Neelie is gone. We are all sorely bereaved, but how Uncle Ezra’s family can ever get along without her, I cannot see. Any member of the family, except uncle, could be spared better than Neelie. She got very much better, and the doctor said if uncle would stay there another week, he was sure Neelie would be well enough to travel without danger of a relapse, but if she had another relapse she could not be saved. The Hardinbrooke train left Monday morning. Mrs. Hardinbrooke was much better. The Gatewoods and Ryans stayed with us. Neelie was much better. She sat up in bed some. That night Uncle Ezra did not sleep at all, he was so afraid of Indians. The next morning, as Neelie had a good night’s rest, and was feeling stronger, nothing else would do but we must move on to Green River, where the soldiers are. We started about nine o’clock, and drove twenty-five miles without stopping. It was very hot and dusty. Uncle drove the family wagon and watched Neelie carefully. After a time she seemed to be sleeping quietly, so he thought she was all right. But it was the sleep from which there is no waking in this life. Dr. Howard and Dr. Fletcher were both at Green River, and they both worked all night trying to arouse her, but without success. At early dawn Neelie’s sweet spirit took its flight, and we are left desolate.