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July 8 -

Today we learned that little Miss True from Cape Mount, who was to have sailed with us on the West Irmo, is dead of fever in Monrovia and to be buried in Bromley. It is a great shock, for we were genuinely fond of her and had looked forward to having her as a companion on the homeward voyage. Now as far as we know there are only the colored missionaries.

George changed the plantation time on July 5th to Greenwich Mean Time - a sort of daylight saving arrangement, though everyone says he did it so that he could get the English broadcasts without having to calculate the 45 minutes' difference. They had quite a time explaining it to the labor force; "To-morrow," the bosses said, "it will be darker when you come to work." "Why it be more dark tomorrow?" "Because we change the sun."

Yesterday Vi had a crowd in for country chop, as usual on Sunday. Just as we sat down to table, the sound of children crying came up to us. Vi was furious. He called Cooper and said "Get those children away from here," and to us he added, "They're trying to take advantage of me because I have company today. I've told them I don't care how many women they keep out back, but I won't have the children around - they make too much noise." Cooper went out and came back, his black face screwed up tight in his usual expression of being about to burst. "Boss," he said "no be pickin - be goat." and sure enough, they were the goats that Vi had commissioned Bobo to buy; Bobo had left them loose in the yard.

July 10 -

Day after day drags by while we wait for news of the West Irmo. Today they assure us it will be in on the 13th - Saturday - and we had better go down to Monrovia Friday night in case it is to sail at daybreak. There is no cargo except our animals, and the ship is not stopping at Marshall. Bill continues to worry about the feasibility of loading hippopotami in surf boats.

Tate at any rate is hopeful : he had lunch today with Wharton, who says he has verbal assurance that the permits will be forthcoming.

This afternoon Mr. Pallant arranged a stilt dance for us in his labor village. We had to wait around until it was almost too dark to takephotographs, but eventually the dancer appeared, being carried down the village street and sat on the roof of a house to get his long legs into place. He was a good acrobat, and made a weird effect with stilts about six feet long, tight white trousers, a grass skirt, and his head covered with a black mask of cloth. Bill got a laugh at the end when he jumped on a boy's shoulders and was carried pickaback down the street and held up in the air to give the dancer his dash.

July 12 -

We spent the day by the telephone waiting for news of the West Irmo. At four o'clock we abandoned the idea of going into Monrovia tonight, as the ship was not yet heard from. About five