ighth Infantry, has seen many
vicissitudes since those days. Some of our gallant Captains and
Lieutenants have won their stars, others have been slain in battle.

Dear, gentle Major Worth received wounds in the Cuban campaign, which
caused his death, but he wore his stars before he obeyed the "last
call."

The gay young officers of Angel Island days hold dignified commands in
the Philippines, Cuba, and Alaska.

*****

My early experiences were unusually rough. None of us seek such
experiences, but possibly they bring with them a sort of recompense, in
that simple comforts afterwards seem, by contrast, to be the greatest
luxuries.

I am glad to have known the army: the soldiers, the line, and the Staff;
it is good to think of honor and chivalry, obedience to duty and the
pride of arms; to have lived amongst men whose motives were unselfish
and whose aims were high; amongst men who served an ideal; who
stood ready, at the call of their country, to give their lives for a
Government which is, to them, the best in the world.

Sometimes I hear the still voices of the Desert: they seem to be calling
me through the echoes of the Past. I hear, in fancy, the wheels of the
ambulance crunching the small broken stones of the malapais, or grating
swiftly over the gravel of the smooth white roads of the river-bottoms.
I hear the rattle of the ivory rings on the harness of the six-mule
team; I see the soldiers marching on ahead; I see my white tent, so
inviting after a long day's journey.

But how vain these fancies! Railroad and automobile have annihilated
distance, the army life of those years is past and gone, and Arizona, as
we knew it, has vanished from the face of the earth.

THE END.

APPENDIX.

NANTUCKET ISLAND, June 1910.

When, a few years ago, I determined to write my recollections of life
in the army, I was wholly unfamiliar with the methods of publishers, and
the firm to whom I applied to bring out my book, did not urge upon me
the advisability of having it electrotyped, firstly, because, as they
said afterwards, I myself had such a very modest opinion of my book,
and, secondly because they thought a book of so decidedly personal a
character would not reach a sale of more than a few hundred copies at
the farthest. The matter of electrotyping was not even discussed between
us. The entire edition of one thousand copies was exhausted in about
a year, without having been carried on the lists of any bookselle