P. S.--It is twelve miles to the top of Pike's Peak.
I really felt, little Joy, as I read your letter, that some time or
other I too must climb those great mountains, and venture into those
mines, and maybe even ride on a burro, as, you did. But very likely the
burro would not care about carrying even a lady like me, unless,
perhaps, I could find the little fellow that had four on his back at
once. And what would become of the Post-office Box while I was climbing
the steep mountains? For the present I suppose I must be content to view
the snow-clad peaks through your bright eyes. Thanks, dear child, for
the lovely pressed flowers so prettily arranged.
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