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Show 210 BY PATH AND TKAIL. ished and the soul, rejoicing, says to its companion, " The battle is won; the field is ours." In one tent, into which I was invited by the mother, reclined on the lounge her daughter, a fair young girl of 18 or 20. She sat up as we entered, and when I was introduced she courteously extended to me her hand, which left upon my own a sensation of wetness. Her conversation, address and bearing indicated a convent training and a cultivated mind. Her blue eyes, the fever flush on her cheeks, and her wealth of rich, auburn hair, sadly reminded me of the " Norman Peasant's Daugh ter, ' ' immortalized by the Irish poet, Thomas Davis : " To Munster's vale they brought her To the cool and balmy air, A Norman peasant's daughter With blue eyes and golden hair. They brought her to the valley, And she faded, slowly, there, Consumption has no pity For blue eyes and golden hair." The tent erected to shield " from sunbeam and from rain the one beloved head," bore in its furnishment and decorations testimony that the hand which hung the etch ings and photographs and the taste which arranged the rugs and furniture, were directed by a refined and culti vated mind. The young lady has been here but five weeks, and already is beginning to experience a change for the better. May she and her companion in suffering return home restored to health and to the possession of many years of happiness. It is well to remember that Arizona is a very large ter ritory 114,000 square miles and that all of it is not to |