Next I am Glenn Kilbourne of West Fork, doomed and haunted by memories of the past.

The great looming walls then become no longer blank.

They are vast pages of the history of my life, with its past and present, and, alas! its future.
Everything time does is written on the stones.

And my stream seems to murmur the sad and ceaseless flow of human life, with its music and its misery.
Then, descending from the sublime to the humdrum and necessary, I heave a sigh, and pull myself together, and go in to make biscuits and fry ham.

But I should not forget to tell you that before I do go in, very often my looming, wonderful walls and crags weave in strange shadowy characters the beautiful and unforgettable face of Carley Burch! I append what little news Oak Creek affords.
That blamed old bald eagle stole another of my pigs.
I am doing so well with my hog-raising that Hutter wants to come in with me, giving me an interest in his sheep.
It is rumored some one has bought the Deep Lake section I wanted for a ranch.