After an early rise to get the ship ready, the wind calmed, and we waited for it to freshen and also for weather reports. After getting favorable ones we thought about noon we would be able to get off, as the wind changed and water grew rough. In vain we tried three times and had to give up. Slim had cemented a pontoon which had sprung a leak and is now soldering the cracked oil tank which the cement and adhesive tape didn’t repair. Just now Bill is playing on a strange instrument with Andy. They are trying to learn it from directions given. The fence is lined with listeners who are starved for music. The only music here is two “Gramophones”—this instrument, a “guitar harp”—and a piano. The fence is lined with men as soon as any music is started. Though the people crave it, they don’t try to have any. How different from the expressive South! Here emotions are as unexpressed as nature is barren. Friday. Is it possible we have been here so long? I didn’t get up very early ce matin as I depended upon being waked. The thing which did get me up was the strain of “Jingle Bells” played by Wilmer Stultz on the strange instrument described before. Just now Slim is asleep. Bill and Andy and Frazer out in a dory with a sail. Bill has my leather coat as neither of the boys brought anything but ordinary coats. They played at tying knots all the morning, and Slim and I had “rummy” games. I have been having a terrific run of luck—winning every game nearly, at a cent a point. We played until after ten last night—very late hour for us. The men are simply great under the strain. Our hopes are high today as the barometer is rising and everything points to favorable weather soon. I went out in a launch yesterday and was run on the rocks. The leak made was so bad that the boat had to be beached this morning for repairs. The water is shallow along the shore, and, as I have said before, the rocks are cruel. The men from here go fishing next week and will be gone five weeks. They are preparing for their voyages now. I should think they’d get out of the habit of working. I am sure they would if living didn’t have to be scratched for so hard. Compared with Tyler St. the children here seem very quiet. I think they are unusually so anyway. I just heard two make some noise and it sounded very strange. Of course, they are shy, too. * * * * For two years I have been associated with Denison House, Boston’s old settlement center on Tyler Street, where the children are anything but quiet. There they are mostly Chinese and Syrians. All city children somehow seem noisy. Perhaps that is because of their cramped surroundings. And especially, of course, the urban child is boldly independent, while the children of remote communities have so little contact with the outer world that they are self-conscious with strangers. * * * * _Log Book:_ June 9, 1928.