In a letter to one of his sisters, in October, he speaks of his return from this chase after Cheyenne Indians, and then goes on to mention some amusing incidents that had occurred at the post, and gives her this bit of artistic advice: “I hope you will profit by your talent for painting, _not bury it in the ground, like the foolish steward_. Painting is a great and very popular accomplishment; there is none perhaps more so.” No matter what happened in or about the garrison, he seemed always ready with his common-sense opinions referring to passing events. For example, after alluding to the burning of a stable, with thirteen mules, when some of them that had been released ran into the fire from fright, he thus proceeds: “I was talking ‘over the wire’ with one of the men on our telegraph line, and what he said is no doubt true, and shows the short-sightedness of the Government. He said that he and many of the other soldiers had damaged or lost their clothes, and that if soldiers were reimbursed for their losses on such occasions, they would work with much more _vim_ and energy, and that he heard one man say that he would not lose his new pantaloons for all the mules in the stable. Of course, in the case of a private house on fire, I believe the enlisted men would risk everything; but in cases of this kind, where Government property only is concerned, this feeling has its existence. There is, too, some reason for this feeling; for, no matter how hard a soldier or officer may work at a fire to save public property, the Government will not reward him even by the restitution of his clothes. Nothing short of an act of Congress would be authority for such an issue.” That the heart of this young man was as pure as his mind was bright, may be seen by reading the following remarks concerning the death of a little niece: “I learn with deep regret the death of poor little Agnes, and sympathize heartily with Lidie and her husband in their affliction, the depth of which none but a parent can know. It should be a consolation, however, that the disease carried the little one away in all the innocence of childhood, before her mother’s love had been intensified with years, and her own intelligence had taught her to love and cling to life. The sad news reached me on the day of the funeral of the little daughter of a brother lieutenant. The little baby seemed very amiable in life, and after death lost none of her sweetness. I sat up with the remains during the night before the funeral.” Alas! when this noble-hearted young man gave up his own life, his only night-watchers were the stars and the icy mountains of the far-distant North!