Silent and weary and sun-baked, we rode o'er the alkaline grass-plains, Into and out of the coolies and through the gray green of the sage-brush-- All the long line of the horses, with jingle of spur and of bridle, All the brown line of the mule-train, tired and foot-sore and straggling; Nothing to right and to left, nothing before and behind us, Save the dry yellowing grass, and afar on the hazy horizon, Sullen, and grim, and gray, sunburnt, monotonous sand-heaps. So we rode, sombre and listless, day after day, while the distance Grew as we rode, till the eyeballs ached with the terrible sameness. By this time the command was straggling in a long broken line, all eyes set on the fort, where, about 1.30, we dismounted from our six hundred miles in the saddle to find in the officers' club-room a hearty welcome and the never-to-be-forgotten sensation of a schooner of iced Milwaukee beer. From Fort Custer we rode a hundred and thirty miles in ambulances to Fort Keogh. This portion of our journey took us over the line to be followed by the Northern Pacific Railroad, and gave us a good idea of the wealthy grass-lands, capable of easy irrigation, bordering the proposed line of rail. The river is navigable to Custer until the middle of September, and in wet seasons still later. Already, much of the best land is taken up, and we were able to buy chickens if we could shoot them, and eggs and potatoes, the latter the best I have seen in any country. The river is marked by ample groves of superb cottonwoods and by immense thickets of the wild prairie-rose and moss-rose, while the shores are endlessly interesting and curious, especially the left bank, on account of the singular forms of the mud and sandstone hills, along which, in places, lie for miles black level strata of lignite. At Fort Keogh we took a steamer to Bismarck, whence we travelled by rail on the Northern Pacific road, reaching home September 9th. We had journeyed sixty-five hundred miles--on horses, six hundred; by ambulances, four hundred; by boat, six hundred and seventy-five. S. WEIR MITCHELL, M. D. FOOTNOTES: [A] Nicholas Biddle. [B] A little valley--probably from the French _coulisse_, a narrow channel. ADAM AND EVE. CHAPTER XIX. Aunt Hepzibah's house stood well up the hill, far enough away from the village to escape the hubbub and confusion which during the removal of any considerable store of spirit were most certain to prevail.