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life in a nudist camp and very clearly and at great length. There were no bones about it. There it was. There was nothing dirty or suggestive about it but the nakedness was so wholeheartedly displayed that actually after a while you scarcely paid much attention to it. And after all, I suppose that's the answer. When it is common, there's no novelty to it, and it seem natural and it should. We got out at 10 PM and I wanted to return to the hotel and get a good rest but Neil was all for going to the "Silver Slipper," a night spot in Auburn. So we went and sat lonesomely at a table beside the dance floor for two hours drinking beer and watching the jitterbugs. The floor show was pretty rotten except one little girl who sang and was a beauty. A nigger advertised as a Spaniard did some very poor dancing, and three girls danced not too well. So we got to bed at 1 AM at the DeWitt, to arise at 6 AM and "do" the Lewiston-Auburn Yards.

Boston, Mass.
Wednesday, July 12, 1939.
This morning we walked 8 miles - no less - covering every inch of the Maine Central in Lewiston and Auburn and we decided it has possibilities. It started out a fine day and then about 10:30 AM it began to rain so we tramped on in the wet and I looked more and more like a bum. Had a final session with Scully and hopped over to Brunswick, where we lunched and looked up Mr. Priest, the Genl. Agent, a bullet headed, paunchy old boy who made me think of W.D. Emerson, bless his soul. Mr. Priest said almost at once, "Well, boys, our switches here has to do some pushing work frequently. We have many 120 to 130