[Illustration:  “THE WATER COMES THROUGH ON ME”]

Its pourin rain an awful cold.  Its so cold that the tooth past rolls right offen your brush in the morning.  The Captin has a cold in his nose.  He says he wont take the men out in such bad wether as today.  Taint nothin gainst him Mable but I hope he has a cold all winter.

Theres a hole in the tent over my cot where the water comes through on me.  I put a slicker over me last nite.  The water made puddles in it.  Then when I turned over they spilt out into my shoes.  This had me guessin Mable till finally I put Max Glucoses shoes there instead of mine.  Angus MacKenzie had so many holes over his cot that it looked like one of those safety fire sprinklers.  He got up last nite and rigged his shelter half sos the water hit it an run down onto the next cot.  Hes a brite fello, Angus, even if he is a forener.

The other day he had some medecine for a cold.  It says on the bottle that it was 17 per cent alcohol.  He drank the whole thing right down sos nobody couldnt get hold of it.  It made him awful sick but he says thats because he isnt used to it for such a long time.  Me an hims goin down next week to put in a stock of tonics.  Its awful hard to rite letters, Mable.  Somebodys always fallin over your feet or draggin something wet over the paper if youve got a cot near the door like mine is.  An when you get goin finally at about the fourth try some sargent always comes in with a list and makes you check up something.

Sometimes I go over to the Y.M.C.A., Mable.  But as soon as you get ritin a bald headed fello jumps up an says “Now fellos well all sing.”  All the fellos whats ritin looks up an says “Aw one thing and another.”  I dont know who the bald headed fello is.  They got one in every Y.M.C.A.  They all look about alike.  I guess there a regular issue.  Theys always a bunch of fellos what dont seem to kno why they came.  They all start singin.  Then I cant rite no more or do nothin.  So I come home an go to bed.  Independent.  Thats me all over, Mable.

Most of the taxis is swalowed up in the mud.  Theys only two or three runnin now.  Only the big strong fellos can get to town.  The cook says its the old theory of the arrival of the fittest.  But I guess you dont know nothin about cience, Mable.  When I go to town I wrap my blouze in a newspaper.  If they know your goin they give you a list of things to get that looks like a Chinese Message to Congress.  By the time you go to come home you got so many bundles you look like one of those fellos in the Funny Papers.  Everyone stands in the square lookin like a hat rack waitin for the three taxis to come along.  When they see one they rush it like they do in the movies when the milunares cars runs over the poor fellos kid.  If goin over the top is any worse than gettin under the top of one of them things with fifty bundles an as many fellos then Sherman didnt know many swear words, eh Mable?  But thats history.  I guess you wouldnt understand.