Vicomte and the rest had returned
after a fruitless search for desperadoes, and underneath I am glad they
have got away after all.

The journey back to Hot Creek was too divinely beautiful, in spite of
two broken tyres which delayed us. The view this way is indescribably
grand and vast--the sunset a pale magenta turning into crimson, and the
sky a blue turning to green, the desert grey, and the mountains beyond
deepest violet turning to sapphire and peacock blue. Does not it sound
as if I were romancing, Mamma! But it was really so, and luminous and
clear, so that we could see perhaps a hundred miles, all a vast sea of
sage brush. The Senator sat by me this time, and Octavia, while Nelson
went in front with the chauffeur, and the Senator held my arm and kept
my sore shoulder from getting shaken; and he seemed such a comfort and
so strong, and he asked us if we had enjoyed our trip in spite of the
catastrophe last night, and we both said we had, and all the more on
account of it, because it was lovely seeing the real thing. And he said
it was a chance in a thousand, as all the camps were so orderly now,
not as in Bret Harte, or as it was in his young days. And he said both
Octavia and I would make splendid miners' wives not to be squeamish or
silly over the "carrion" that was shot, and not to have trembling nerves
today. We felt so pleased, and only that underneath I can't help being
sad about Nelson, we should all have been very gay. It was about nine
o'clock when we reached the car and Marcus Aurelius's welcoming smiles,
and an appetising supper. And now I am writing to you to post where we
stop in the morning. We only stay one day in Osages and then go on our
way to the tarpons at last, and the joys of Mexico. It has been all more
than delightful, and I do hope the Americans like us as much as we like
them; from East to here we have received nothing but exquisite courtesy
and kindness, and I can never tell you what a grand and open and
splendid nation they are, Mamma, or how little understood in Europe. All
their faults are the faults of youth, as I said before; and everyone
will admit youth is a gift of the gods.

Now, good-night, dearest Mamma.

Fond love to all,

From your affectionate daughter,

ELIZABETH.

_Morning_.

P.S.--The Senator's mail caught us up at the only station we passed, and
in the packets of letters for everyone was another from Jane Roose for
me saying more odious insinuations about Mr