286 NATHANIEL SOUTHGATE SHALER 



dry-souled will do nothing for him in an illness which promises to be 



long. I shall get to camp to-day if I can find a horse, mule, or other transpor- 

 tation. A ducking is on the bills, for I forgot my overcoat and the clouds 

 are sulkily watching for me ; fortunately I am neither sugar nor salt so I shall 

 not melt, but will growl through it and eat my ration and drink an apple 

 toddy (if it is not smashed) when I get to camp. 



July 1st. 



... A fog delays us and there is the well-known dismal tooting while 

 the boat crawls along. This cuts me out of a day. ... I feel very blue 

 about diving into the woods for ten days or more, but I take courage in the 

 hope that it will be the last time for some months. ... In packing manu- 

 scripts, note-books, etc., be very careful so that they shall be secure. ... I 

 forgot my razor, so you will find me in a ferocious beard when I come out 

 of the woods. 



July 19th. 



... A pleasant journey but a weary night, the unending grind of a stern- 

 wheeler crawling over sand-bars and stumps, a wretched hotel with the din 

 of dinner and its stench ; it makes me sick, so I must seek a level place in the 

 open if it is to be found. 



Aug. 8. 



... I am tolerably well but tired of this endless chase. Have had good 

 luck with my geological work but bad luck with my personal effects. I hope 

 you are gradually making ready for the trip East. Don't be anxious about 

 me, for I have some acquaintances at Hickman who will look after me, and 

 the hope of getting through quickly will carry me safely through. . . . 



WlLLARD, Aug. 18, '75. 



. . . Everything has gone to sixes and sevens, only part of our things 

 arrived, horses sore-backed. This is a miserable chafing existence I lead 

 after all. I hope it will soon be mended. Am pretty well despite irritation 

 and hope to feel quite well as soon as we get into the woods. . . . Shan't 

 I be happy when we get our heads in the Cambridge Shanty! ... I am 

 anxious to have a quiet two weeks before the winter's dance begins. 



Wednesday [no date]. 



. . . We shall sleep at Peach Orchard and make a long march to-morrow. 

 Am quite well, sleeping soundly at night. You will see on the edge of this 

 sheet evidence of a lamentable accident, the smashing of my quinine and 

 iron and the inundation of my portfolio ; this life of accidents is accursed. 



