The light of the exhausts is beginning to show as pink as the last glow of the sky. Endless foggies. The view is too vast and lovely for words. I think I am happy—sad admission of scant intellectual equipment. I am getting housemaid’s knee kneeling here at the table gulping beauty. * * * * [Illustration: description: Drawing of “Lady Lindy” (Earhart) with angel wings flying over ocean and holding hands with “Lady Luck” caption: Rollin Kirby in the _New York World_ ] [Illustration: description: Photo wide shot of wingtip above and cloud deck below caption: FOR NINETEEN HOURS ONLY A SEA OF CLOUDS © _Wide World Photos_ ] I was kneeling beside the chart table, which was in front of the window on the port side. Through it I looked northward. It was at this time that I took several photographs. On the starboard side of the plane was another window. The table itself, a folding device, was Bill’s chart table on which he made his calculations. Close by was the radio. Even though one could stand up in the cabin, the height of the table was such that to see out of the window one had to lean on the table or kneel beside it. There was nothing to sit on, as sitting equipment had been jettisoned to save weight. * * * * _Log Book:_ The sea for a space. Hooray. Slim has just hung a flashlight up for illuminating the compass. This light makes the radium impossible to see. Soon it will be dark enough without the flash. * * * * The faint light of the radium instruments is almost impossible to see in dawn or twilight, when it is neither dark enough for the contrast of the radium to show nor light enough to see the numerals themselves. * * * * _Log Book:_ It is about 10. I write without light. Readable?[1] [1] For reproduction of log book see page 305. * * * * Have you tried to write in the dark? I remember sitting up in bed at school composing themes after lights. During those night hours on the Friendship the log was written with the help of my good left thumb. I would not turn on the electric light in the after cabin lest it blind Bill at the controls. And so I pencilled my way across the page of the diary thankful for that early training with those better-late-than-never themes. The thumb of my left hand was used to mark the starting point of one line. The problem of this kind of blind stenography is knowing where to start the next line. It didn’t always work. Too often lines piled up one on the other and legibility suffered. * * * * _Log Book:_ The sea was only a respite. Fog has followed us since. We are above it now. A night of stars. North the horizon is clear cut. To the south it is a smudge. The exhausts send out glowing meteors.