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the plants we came for, and we didn't believe it anyhow. They went and we got back to our plants and worked till dark - mine all in well before and ^[[insertion]] I'd put [[/insertion]] several sets in for her. She is about as slow a person as I ever saw (except my eldest sister and Glen Van Eseltine). [[vertical line in margin]] I had deepened the trench at noon for the whole mountain side was a running river, but it hadn't been windy, only incessant rain all day, and the tent seemed all right. But after we'd eaten in the dark and laid out our beds, Mrs. M. doing most of that, [[/margin]] it began to blow and pour. She stripped to the skin and went out to make the tent more secure, retie the poncho, which I held from the inside. She certainly had nerve when it comes to facing cold. We finally got into our beds and listened to the tent flapping and billowing, hoping it would hold - and it did. But after a few hours we found we were lying in puddles - I had been for some time but knew no way out of it and she was asleep. When she awoke her flash light showed our trench was over flowing. We dug it out

Transcription Notes:
Glen Van Eseltine, 1888-1939; U.S. Department of Agriculture; New York State Agricultural Experiment Station, New York.