S. P. TRANSLATIONS.
207
than the officers and soldiers of Fort Keogh are. Nearly all the officers drink their claret-and-water at their 5 o'clock dinner, but what "good livers" don't? The time for drinking and carousing in the army is past. The influence of the war has worn off, and without any inconvenience to Uncle Sam, they can now fire most unceremoniously any person who is at all partial to bacchanalian feasts. Drunkenness among the officers here is unknown; and among the soldiers there is very little of it.
The Indian settlements on Tongue River, Wolf Creek, a tributary of the Tongue, and
upon the railroads are also under the supervision of the military, and under their eye have made great progress. As an example of the development, in riding from town the other day I saw four native American ladies (Cheyenne squaws) riding in a two seated buck-board driving two ponies. White Bull and Two Moons, two redoubtable Indian chiefs, may be seen now in their visits to the post wearing white summer helmets, civilized breeches, linen dusters and even with the traditional carpet bag in their aboriginal hands.
E.
S. P. TRANSLATIONS.
AENEID, I, 1-9 ; 93-103.
Revised Version.
Cash and the man I sing, who, driven by bad speculations,
Hate of ungrateful companions and fury wild of the rabble.
Wandered far o'er the world, an exile from home and from kindred.
Many adventures he had, and saw many curious peoples.
Ere he rested from toil and safely invested his money.
Muse, to me relate the causes of all these disasters,
Why left the hero his native land, in exile to wander,
Whither he journeyed afar, and all that he saw in his travels,
Where he settled at last, and how he invested his money?
Pious Aeneas was horribly scared by the swift-coming blizzard. Spoke he seventeen tongues, so he swore like seventeen pirates, Ripping out yard-long oaths, till fairly blue was the aether, Raving and tearing his hair, and swearing by god and by goddess—Then exclaimed Achates, "See, the storm-cloud is breaking, Go it, pious Aeneas, you are checking the storm by your cussin.'" Beautiful then it was, to see the pious Aeneas Get right down to business, and show them what he was good for; Gifted he was supremely in pure ornamental swearing. Now the storm-cloud wavered, broke and finally vanished, Then the blue sky returned and, all the air was bright sunshine.
Then the blue sky returned and all the air was bright sunshine.
G. W. H.