=Havana, Sunday, March 24, 1912.= Another beginning to-day and I hope a good one. The unfinished story of the 16th, Saturday, which I failed to relate last Sunday, was the burial of the Maine. Deciding at the last moment to witness this, I boarded the Purisima Concepcion at about 1 o’clock. After a short time, while looking overboard at the struggling crowds, a lot of rope and tackle came down on me from overhead and took half of the day’s pleasure away in the shape of my glasses. Thereafter I witnessed all the events with my one remaining lense held over one eye and tied to a handkerchief covering the other and tied behind my ear. It was a miserable subterfuge, and to add to it all I had a beautiful headache; cold, and the fear of glass in my eye--for one lense was smashed right over my eye. However, a day’s strain was all that happened, and when it was all over I voted that the day’s pleasure was worth it. The sea was very rough and many people were sea-sick, but I enjoyed it very much. About 5 o’clock we were all lined up, the United States naval vessels, North Carolina and Birmingham, the Maine in between, and beyond on the side opposite us the diminutive Cuban navy. The sea cocks were opened and we all looked with intense interest, I straining my one eye with everything forgotten. For twenty minutes the Maine did not seem to be filling very rapidly. At 5:20, however, the sinking was noticeable; then as we stared she settled deeper and deeper, the stern, where the bulkhead was, sinking first; then suddenly she turned, the stern went under, the forward was up in the air at an angle of 45 degrees or more; it was a thrilling sight. Then with gathering momentum she went down. At 5:27 the waters of the gulf covered the last vestiges of one of the great tragedies of history. It was a grand sight; Nature herself seemed in mourning; for the day, bright and clear in the forenoon and early afternoon, had gradually become darker, and she disappeared with the sky overcast and a solemn hush over everything. I know this was the way it impressed me, and all my petty troubles were forgotten in the grand scene before me. In an endeavor to discover my feelings of a day, from the 10th to the 15th, I kept a short record by way of finding out how much I could count on myself in my struggle, and the result showed me that I lack exercise, am too nervous and over-strung to put forth my best efforts, all of which confirms the wisdom of my decision to return home to find myself after a rest. Sunday, March 10--Fair in morning; depressed later. Monday, March 11--Fine until middle of afternoon, then tired and nervously depressed. Night, cheerful again; bedtime, terribly nervous, depressed, wakeful, worried and despairing. Tuesday, March 12--Tired from previous night’s depths of gloom; calm later, fair night. Wednesday, March 13--Calm and enthusiastic; tired, but not depressed, later restless in bed.