Dick rode a thin burro with a Mexican saddle and stirrups that looked like tin cans, two Indian boys accompanied him: one to pull the burro and the other to push it. With the baby parrot under my arm I walked ahead of the cavalcade for two miles along the railway track. We expected a good deal of trouble, but only one mule fell over the embankment with a bed on his back, and had to be dragged up on the end of a rope by another. How they ever did the journey down the rocky footpath through the wood into the valley without mishap is a miracle. But they fetched up at the riverside in perfect order and were there unloaded, while a bridge was being built to enable the men to carry the stuff across the rapids. This took time, but two palm tree trunks eventually spanned the rapids to a small island, and from there a dugout ferried us across to the big island, which is our camp. At eight o’clock I went to bed dead tired, my bed was next to the tent flap, tied back so that the moon could shine in upon me, and I could look out and see the fire-flies. I fell asleep to the sound of water falls that roar like a great mill wheel on either side of the island. SUNDAY, AUGUST 21, 1921. _At Camp._ What is the use of describing it? I am never going to forget. It is mirror’d deep down into my soul, forever. And who else cares? I am so happy and so completely at peace. It is less than a year since I went to Russia, and it has been the fullest year of my life. During that year I have hardly at all been alone, and I am very very tired. Peace, (the most beautiful word in the English language) “the Peace that passeth all understanding” is mine at last.