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LIFE AMONGST THE APACHES.
Bowen proved to be a fairly good cook, and I ventured to ask people to dinner in our little hall dining-room, a veritable box of a place.

One day, feeling particularly ambitious to have my dinner a success, I made a bold attempt at oyster patties.

With the confidence of youth and inexperience, I made the pastry, and it was a success; I took a can of Baltimore oysters, and did them up in a fashion that astonished myself, and when, after the soup, each guest was served with a hot oyster patty, one of the cavalry officers fairly gasped.

"Oyster patty, if I'm alive! Where on earth--Bless my stars! And this at Camp Apache!" "And by Holy Jerusalem! they are good, too," claimed Captain Reilly, and turning to Bowen, he said: "Bowen, did you make these ?" Bowen straightened himself up to his six foot two, clapped his heels together, and came to "attention," looked straight to the front, and replied: "Yes, sir." I thought I heard Captain Reilly say in an undertone to his neighbor, "The hell he did," but I was not sure.
At that season, we got excellent wild turkeys there, and good Southdown mutton, and one could not complain of such living.
But I could never get accustomed to the wretched small space of one room and a hall; for the kitchen, being detached, could scarcely be counted in.