For whenever I allude to those early days, and tell to them the tales they have so often heard, they always say: ‘‘“Now, mother, will you write these stories for us? Please, mother, do; we must never forget them.”’’
Then, after an interval, ‘‘“Mother, have you written those stories of Arizona yet!”’’ until finally, with the aid of some old letters written from those very places (the letters having been preserved, with other papers of mine, by an uncle in New England long since dead), I have been able to give a fairly connected story.
I have not attempted to commemorate my husband's brave career in the Civil War, as I was not married until some years after the close of that war, nor to describe the many Indian campaigns in which he took part, nor to write about the achievements of the old Eighth Infantry. I leave all that to the historian. I have given simply the impressions made upon the mind of a young New England woman who left her