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writing or drawing or thinking. I can't help feeling sorry for the fish and the bait. At any rate, I rowed down the cove as far as the river. It is not very mountainous here and the river flows along between high grass-covered hills, a beautiful sight. Pretty farms are nestled in the valleys and along the river bank, and the cows graze up on the hillsides. The blue of the sky above and the water beneath, balance the picture beautifully. What a contrast that makes with the picture of the Hudson at New York flowing down between great man-made mountains of brick and steel. As I came back up the cove, the sun was just setting. It was so beautiful that I turned my boat toward the west and just let the wind carry me along while I watched the sky, all pearly gray, light lavender, rose and gold. Those things make one so glad to be just alive -- compensation ample in itself. That sunset made me happy -- just think what those twilights at Shoals will mean when the day is over and night is drawing nigh. ...... After sunset, we drove down the shore a short distance and found a very suitable hollow for our camp. The fire was built, the bacon fried, and the coffee boiled. Everything tasted wonderfully, of course. We had a good fire and the night was warm, so we decided to sleep out in spite of the fact that it looked like rain. However, we did take the precaution to ask a nearby farmer if, in case of rain, he would allow us to sleep in his hay mow, and we received his consent plus a lantern, as it was pitch dark. About 1:30, I woke up to feel a patter of rain on my face -- When we entered the barn, we were glad that the farmer had given us a lantern for the simple reason that there was a bull chained up in an open stall beside the mow and we might have awakened in the morning to find ourselves lying beside the bull, a rather bad shock, I'm afraid. How it rained and how the wind roared all night long. Then there was a nice little thunder storm thrown in too. But we were safe from it all in the hay mow and slept comfortably. This morning we got milk and eggs from the farmer, got a good fire going (with some difficulty because of wet wood) and have a marvelous breakfast. I had a fried egg sandwich an inch and a half thick (I could say two inches but I wont exaggerate). During the preparation of breakfast, we had such a heavy fall of rain that it nearly put the fire out, by the way. At the present time, George and Del are fishing again and I am anchored up the shore line of the river a little above the cove. The sun is putting up a hard fight and does get a peek through the clouds occasionally. There is an awfully funny bug in my boat now. He jumps and jumps and every time he jumps, he lands hind side before so he has to turn around before his next take-off. One must give him credit for the brains to turn around and not spending his life jumping back and forth between two points. ...... Well, it is time I wandered back up the cove in search of my companions, I suppose. There is a red buoy out in the river here that makes me think of the big one out in Portsmouth Harbor that we shall sail by next month. What a boatride that will be too -- the last lap of our never-to-be-forgotten journey.