Tuesday morningDear Mamma:-
I made the journey successfully yesterday though my trunk has not yet gotten here. It is lovely here as I remember it. I have my bed right beside the window and look right out on fir trees and rocks and ocean. I don't think I ever had from my room a lovelier view of the water. The "room" is rather more than half the attic with plenty of space and air, though I've already given my head some hard whacks. I don't need to hit it, only the roof slants and I straighten up where there isn't space enough.
Sunday was a gorgeous day and I did hate to leave Shelburne just as good climbing weather had come. It was so cold Sunday night that it suggested frost though it didnt [sic] really come. I took that morning train, which was late and got later till I saw there was no choice of getting across to my train for Newcastle in Portland. I had an idea there was a short cut by Lewiston and Brunswick, several changes, but time saved. The conductor didn't know and couldn't get a Maine Central timetable. He did get me a Portland guide-book like our "Mansir's" and from that it looked possible to go from Yarmouth to Brunswick in an hour's trolley ride and get the train, so I got off at Yarmouth, saw the tail of one Brunswick car go around the corner, took a look at Yarmouth and got some ice-cream, got the next car in half an hour, rode an hour and just made my train at Brunswick! I was glad to get it, though of course I couldn't get my trunk along too. From Newcastle I came down by auto, 14 1/2 miles, a pretty ride, but a mighty rough road.
The package had come and Miss Smith had my bed all made up. Please thank Miss Safford for mailing it. Your note was here too and I'm glad you are all right. Sam may not have gone west yet. He didn't leave Mittie until the 20th, did he?
I'll have to stop now in order to get this into the morning mail. We have our meals at a house about five minutes' walk away and the post-office is just beyond. We go a long way to get drinking water for it is hard to get it near the shore. Miss Young has a well 100 feet deep with lots of water but not good to drink. So we take little pails and go in a procession to the fine big public well way off in the woods.
Good-bye. Much love to you. I'd like to see the Congregationalist article about Miss Wallace. I guess that was the one Miss Patrick wanted the picture for.
Address
Pemaquid Point, Me.