Dill Royle's Diary

Dill Royle Hansen.
25 October 1906
in Seattle, Washington.

Smith's Cove Wash.

July 17, 1898

For the benefit of my dear girls so far away, I start this journal in order to tell them more fully of my pleasure while camping out.

Sunday Evening

All day we have been working on what would be working if it was any other than a Sunday, but I don't call it work on that account. But we had to come today because Walt couldn't get off from work to come on weekday to put up the tent. Walt isn't going to camp out for he can't leave work.

Allie and Laura and I are with Mrs. Dickenson and her family. We have pitched our tents, three in number, by the bay below the cliff but on a green grassy spot above high tide. At low tide there isn't any water for nearly half a mile; at high tide it comes with in six feet of the tents below the bank.

We have a big table under the trees, perfectly square about six by six feet, put upon two sawhorses we fished out of the driftwood. The bank or cliff back of us is about fifty or seventy five feet high and great trees grow way high on top of that.

We can see Seattle away off across the bay, but it looks like a city in a picture as we can't hear a sound. From it, a railroad runs along one side of us, which is pretty noisy. That is all that runs in as of civilization.

What a time we have had getting our goods here. A wagon could not be driven within a mile of camp, so the bedding and camp stove, along with boxes, satchels and everything imaginable, was unloaded by the beach away round the cliff. And then the boys got a boat and loaded the things in and rowed them around. And then we girls helped get them upon the bank and into the tents. Then some of the grub had to fall out, of course, and the many loaves of bread flew around and rolled down the sand and the time we had getting dinner can better be imagined than described.

July 18th

Half past four and now I am at leisure to tell of all we have done today, but, oh, last night, I shall never get over it.

I guess Laura and I had a bed, it was a good one too. When we got into it, there was lots of sticks and leaves under [it] and then the mattress on top, but after we had all settled to get to sleep it began to rain. Well, we were afraid of sleeping with our heads next to the wet canvas, as I was sick in bed a week agone now, so we thought we would put our pillows at the foot and turn around. Well, we had a pair of blankets on and we forgot they were joined at the foot. And as our candle was out and the matches in the cupboard in the kitchen across the front yard, you should have seen the hubbub. Then the lumps intended for our feet came about the small of my back and [I] did not sleep fifteen minutes until half past four. [At] half past three, I dressed and crept out and walked along the cliff until I was tired, then came back and went to bed again. Strange to say I haven't been sleepy today.

Well the kids and Laura have been bathing up by the Glass Works, but I thought I would be camp watcher today. So, while they were gone, I amused myself by reading under the trees and thus I put a lining in a waist to wear around mornings. It is red flannel and looks nice. Oh, I've got needle and thread and thimble, but some how my thimble was hanging on a nail on one of the tents and this morning it was flat, but I don't mind. You should see the cupboards. There is [three] nailed to trees with shelves in them and one tree is really a sight. Hanging around it from the first limbs down is articles of every description: dish pan, frying pan, stew pan, coffee pot, tea pot, clothes pins, wash board, and I can't see any thing else but a cup towel, [excepting] the sharp knife, two or three hat pins, the scissors and a bunch of wire, but it is the family tree any way. On another tree is the looking glass, [and] another cupboard. Two or three tooth brushes hang by cords from its friendly limbs. Our house [or] apartment is about twenty feet up the bank and we'd cut steps up to it. And [if] anyone thinks we are going to pick berries when we start that way-- oh, anything to deceive, you know.

Well I really must tell of the wonderful privileges we have here and you try to think what a heaven it would be to go camping without any mosquitoes. Well, I haven't been bit once this summer by one. There are two or three here with us but they are too fond of Mrs. Dickenson to trouble me, and there is absolutely nothing of the kind to annoy one.

And a drive of cows pass here every day too but there is one thing that I dread and that is the crabs in the bay when we go bathing. Laura declares they are awful. I did not go in today but I am going in tomorrow, if its warm.

When the tide comes in, it is the most wonderful thing to see the tide creep in and then out it goes in the most [quiet-shy] way.

Oh I wish you could see my bathing costume. It's simply charming. I took my brown [Serge] dress, turned it and washed it and cut it up into a suit. There is 18 yards of red braid on it and it is just lovely. Everyone thinks so. There is a blouse waist, a full short skirt and bloomers and I am going to wear brown stockings with it. And I am going to learn to swim.

Well since I started to write, I have left this to go for a boat ride with Laura. And we had a fine time and as cupboards are still in demand, we towed a box boat big as an organ box into shore and landed it and much shouting and excitement and I am hoarse with yelling and screaming directions to Laura as I was the Captain and we were capturing a Spanish prize. I think I will go on a tour now to the top of the hill as I haven't been up yet and I want to see the sun set from that high point.

July 19th

It is with difficulty I find the time to tell of all this day has been to me, but I must not leave out the romp last evening that Laura and I took to the top of the bluff. It was too late when we got back to write and we have plenty of candles and bon fires but we don't pretend to write at that time of night.

We started up the hill but I can never tell you what a time we had to get to the top. When half way up, we got stuck and there was not the slightest chance of getting any further without crossing a chasm some thirty or forty feet below us, spanned by a tree four feet through and fifty [feet] long. It was a natural bridge and Laura walked sideways clear across but I sat down and straddled it best I could and hitched the whole way across. My shoes were so slippery I couldn't take a step. Then up a slant of seven or eight feet. We had to make steps with our hands by digging out the sand and hanging by the roots of shrubs but at last we came out on top by an immense tree and a great big stump. The tree had been shaved off and the stump was as big across as a bed and just high enough for us to manage to get on top of--which we did and standing up, we waved our bonnets wildly to the people in the camp, who looked like little children to us so far down below they were.

Then we looked far over the bay. We could see all of Seattle far in the distance and the ships coming and going like great white birds on the beautiful bay lying all around so blue and quiet. The tide was high and we were nearly surrounded by water.

Well and I will hurry for fear I won't get it all down.

Anyway, we rambled around until we got lost and then Laura informed me there were bears and wild cats and cougars in the woods. Finally, we came to the place we intended to come down by where there was three flights of plank stairs besides a steep distance of about 15 feet which was simply terrible to get down, at least gracefully. So I sat down solid and slid two or three feet at a time and by hanging on to the bushes and roots I managed it. I did not notice how Laura came down, I was so interested in my own affairs about that time. It did not seem worthwhile to bother, but the state of my white underclothes, shoes and stockings can better be imagined than described, especially as I had lost both garters, and my shoes had come unbuttoned. Oh my, how tired we were when we got to camp and that was nothing compared to what I felt like this morning.

But now for today. And first I will tell you about our bedroom which is really the most romantic thing you ever heard of. A long time ago some business here undertook to build a glass factory or works and it was begun on an immense scale. Great store houses was built or warehouses. Then the main building, a great big structure was half finished, but not completed. The chimney stack, about seventy five feet high, was built and the furnaces were built but that was all. It was never finished.

And the furnaces is what is the interesting part to this story. They are over the edge of the bay near the wharf where they expected ships to land to carry away their goods, but nothing was ever finished. And this glass works is the only one in the vicinity of Seattle, although for five miles from the city, it is the Seattle glassworks.

Now, this place is about as far from our camp as from the house to the creek at home, and so two very daring girls decided they wanted to sleep where they could hear the waves dash up and break on the rocks, so into the furnace over the bay they had their bedding carried in a boat and there they sleep snug as a bug in a rug. Will it be necessary to tell the names of these two daredevils that went camping and made their bed in the furnace of the old glass works over-hanging the bay quarter of a mile from camp just to hear the water all night, just to be able to get up at day light and see the sun rise over the bay, just to be funny, for instance. Well, you know them for they are closely related to you all.

We use the same place for a bathhouse where we change our clothes, and today was the first time in my life ever was in salt water. I nearly got drowned, of course, but what else could you expect? There was five of us in the water and we chose great logs that float around for handles to float on and I got a particular fine one that held me up completely so sitting astride of it I paddled along nicely just letting my toes touch bottom. All at once I found I could not begin to touch bottom and there I was two rods from the others and suddenly my log rolled over and I too. Oh how I scrambled for a footing. Ha! ha! I wasn't very scared for I would have got hold of my log some how, but you bet I don't paddle along in such deep water again unless Walt is near.

Then home we went and Mrs. Dickenson and I took the boat and went across on point of the bay to get some boxes and articles and we got our boat so heavily loaded we could not manage it against the wind and tide together, and between us we ran in to shore and got stuck and everything you could think of.

I only wish you could have seen Laura when we got back. She was taking the opportunity to shorten her dress and this is what she looks like. [Note: there is a drawing in the diary of a girl in a dress with the sleeves up to her elbows and the skirt up to her knees.] Mrs. Dickenson said, "Well you got the legs good anyhow." "I guess why that's what I made it for," I said.

Well I have written after daylight was gone and this campfire is my excuse for this crazy writing.

July 20

Not much has happened of interest today. For my part, I am quite laid up. I have slept in the tent for tree hours this afternoon, but here I go getting everything backwards again. I should tell how things go on first in the forenoon, then the afternoon, like yesterday. I forgot to say how we spent the morning as there was several interesting things.

I will now tell how after breakfast the children, four of them, and Laura and I took the shovels and pails, and putting on old shoes without stockings, we went clam digging. The tide was out and we went about two miles up the beach. We could tell where there was a clam for a tiny stream of water would shoot up about a foot like a little fountain. Then we would dig like everything and soon we had our pails full, and tired and hungry we wandered back to camp, but not without a lot of funny things. We had eight star fish, the largest about fifteen inches from one prong to another. We saw jellyfish and got one small devil fish. Oh my, that was a funny thing, a real baby devil fish and a lot of funny things that live in the salt water. We are getting a collection of shells, some are beautiful, but that was yesterday.

Today I have not shared a single sport for I was so tired and worn out I decided to rest. Allie came out today and they have been having a good time but I watched camp. They all went bathing. Laura has a lovely suit Allie made. It's of flannelette. It's blue trimmed with scotch plaid.

Now it's nearly tea time by the clock hanging in the tree. Laura and Allie are away boat riding and gathering fire wood from the point across from here. They had to wait for high tide and as I have to get tea, I couldn't go, but I'm going after tea with Laura to see an old steam boat half a mile away. We will go in the boat. I can row some now.

There are two mosquitoes quarreling as to who will get the best place to bite me and I am not having the best of the quarrel, I assure you.

July 21

I will only add from yesterday that we did go to see the old steamer. Some young fellows made a tiny boat and put a sail on it and sent it out to meet us, but we wouldn't take any notice of them and decided not to land and explore the boat since it was inhabited.

There isn't much more to tell. Only that when we went up to bed in the furnace we took a lighted candle in a candlestick with us and had great fun keeping it from going out as we did not have any more matches.

But imagine our horror when we drew near to the place to find some one had been there. Indeed, it looked as if someone was there. The curtain was down in front (the opening is about four feet wide by three high) and fastened. We looked at each other in dismay, knowing that if there was anyone inside we would not like to go in without a light and the blamed candle tried its best to go out. Laura was carrying it, so I breathlessly told her to keep it from going out and to hurry to the entrance, while I with all my might grabbed the heavy curtain and giving it a yank, took the light from Laura and thrust it in.

What a long breath we took and how I trembled, but only with excitement for we saw with relief that no one occupied our room. But for the first time in my life I sat the light on the stone floor and looked under our bed for it was sand up about eight inches from the floor. Then we fell to wondering who could have done it just to scare us. The bricks we had to keep the bottom of the curtain straight had always been on the outside, but what scared us first was to see they had all been put on the inside. Well we gave up wondering and I read a story aloud and then we went to sleep happy as anything.

Meaning to tell of our adventures in the morning when we went to camp. So, this morning I awoke first by the light that moved across the back ceiling from the reflection of the water under and around us that shone through the arched window or opening in the back of the furnace. Oh, it was so beautiful to lay there, and great waves were breaking on the beach. I could hear them and the water was shining in the beautiful sunlight so I crept out of bed and left Laura asleep.

And throwing a cape around me I went down to the water in my bedclothes and there I threw my wrap on the sand and running out to the edge of the water, I bathed my face and hands in the beautiful clean sparking water making little dives after the big waves catching them up and dashing them over my face and neck. You will remember that the salt water never will do you any harm no matter when you like to go in or bathe in it, but, oh my, it is salt. I got a lot in my mouth and had a time to get the taste out. Well, I stayed there and had a beautiful time all by myself.

Two or three great steamers passed and then, oh, the big waves did roll in. Steamers make big waves, you know, when they have a wheel, and one of these was a stern wheeler and one a side wheeler.

Then Laura got up and we had a beautiful walk to camp through the delightful morning air along the cliff path. Allie was up and had breakfast ready. We had delicious coffee with cream and pancakes and fried bacon and wheat porridge and then I washed the dishes and Allie made another cupboard. Then after dinner I haven't done a thing but read love stories and swing and walk around a bit for exercise and gaze over the Bay from a big stump half way up the cliff and now its just a quarter to six and I shall get tea. As Mrs. Dickenson has a stomach ache and her husband has come out from town and is going out to fish in the boat perhaps I shall go too, if he will let me. They are trying to catch salmon or soles.

July 22

Why the camp fire is flaming wildly today before I find the time to write of my few doings. Today Mr. Dickenson is kindly keeping the fire blazing for our benefit.

We did not go fishing last night, though, nor this evening, but Laura, Anna and I have just returned from a beautiful boat ride. I rowed with one oar and did it nicely, they said. We went up to the end of the cove and drifted back with the tide.

I haven't done a thing today worth mentioning. Only this morning I wanted to send in town by Mr. D. for some cough medicine so I woke Laura up and told her to hurry down to camp to get the money and tell him what kind I wanted. I was surprised when she was willing to go, for she was sleepy, you see. I was too lazy to go myself, so I lay down to have another sleep. She came back soon and woke me up so I just said I'd sleep until I felt like getting up, so I stayed in bed as long as I could stand it and read novels.

Bye the way, I had a scare before Laura woke this morning and I felt the sweat coming on my face for I was sure there was a man shoving his feet along the stone floor in front. And I listened intently then grabbed for my weapon, the one I considered the best thing to have, leaving the jack knife and stick for Laura. I grabbed her by the arm and said, "Laura wake up and help me fight the Devil." So we crept to the peep hole and lo, there was a bunch of paper swishing about by the wind.

July 23

My what a lazy lot we are today. Eleven o'clock before we came down to breakfast. Then while I washed the dishes, Laura goes across the trestle to meet some friends.

Then this afternoon I washed or pretended to. I boiled my pants and handkerchiefs in the stew pan and then washed my night dress and it hasn't got dry to wear. Mrs. D wants me to wear Mr. D.'s night shirt but I kindly but firmly refused. So she says, "Oh well, I'll wear it and you take my gown." So I was glad.

And now I am going to tell how I went into town this afternoon to get my letters and only found one, but on the way in on the car I had a great fright. The car ran into a buggy nearly taking off the wheels and it was right by me, so I did all I could to help along and screamed as hard as I could, so the man jerked the lines and so got away alive. Oh I was frightened.

Then we passed by a lot of big buildings that had just been afire. The engines were there yet when we passed. So was a great crowd watching the smoking ruins.

I went directly to the place where I had been working to get my mail and then stopped with Mrs. R. for supper and came back this evening to the side of the cove. Laura and Anna met me there with the boat. It was nearly ten o'clock when we got to camp. I bought a can of fish, a piece of cheese and a half dozen lemons and tomorrow is Sunday. I don't know what we will do but I intend to lie under the trees all day.

July 24

True to my intentions, I am lying under the trees writing on a box but what shall I write? Only that it is hot as the warmest place you ever heard of in the sun, but here under the trees, oh it's grand. I have a pretty good notion to go bathing today although it's Sunday. I want to show off my suit. Ha! ha! For there seem to be such a lot of ladies and gentlemen going about today. Who wouldn't want to show off this rig?

Monday 25

Oh what an ideal day. Beautiful sunshine, cool breezes birds singing and not an earthly thing to do but lie under the trees and read or get up and eat lunch.

Then this afternoon, oh the bathing. What shall I do when I can't go bathing anymore? I go every day now. I went yesterday, so did Walt and Laura and Mr. D. and about a dozen other people. Oh it's so grand. I stay in the water until I haven't a mite of strength left. You see I tear around so splashing and plunging and sousing and I am learning slowly to swim. I can float now on my back. One has only to lie very still with out stretched arms and feet together to do that. But oh, the swimming! It would be so glorious to be able to do that like Annie does, but I can not stand it to stay in as long as the children do, for I get cold and then I hustle away and, getting some of my clothes on, I sit in the hot sun and watch the rest.

This crooked writing is a sure indication that it's done by the camp fire, which makes me laugh at what Mr. D. says. "I never saw anything like Miss Royle," he declares, "she leaves all her important work to do after daylight." And I laughingly tell him I want to admire the scenery by daylight.

July 26

Another lazy day. Eleven o'clock when we came down to breakfast.

Oh, dear girls at home, I only know how exquisitely beautiful it is here. When I say to myself, why I will draw a picture for the girls and I did draw the position of the camp but that is where I failed to express to you what I meant to. Would I dare, could I dare to send anything to you to explain what it was like by the cold straight line. No, a thousand times no, I'd rather let you try to imagine what the scene is like at this time of day: half past six. (You must study for you self what time it is there, it's two hours different you know.)

Stretching away before me is the dark blue waters of the bay. They also lap at my feet. Mt. Rainier looms up in all its beauty, the beauty of the sunshine on its old gray head and where clouds float around it. The cliffs on the other side of the bay show green and brown patches and far off to the left lies a, as our grammas like to say, "a city lies sleeping". Yes, in the warm sunshine, it is sleeping to us as much as a great picture would, and we can see so much of it too, for it is built on such big hills and they arise far away showing the biggest building on the highest points.

Then the ships... Oh, the great ships they pass us and re-pass us twenty times a day. All the great treasure ships from the Klondike pass us first. We see the returning miners crowded on their decks. We hear their mighty shouts of gladness that the people give when they think they are nearly home after their exile, and in the evening we get the news from the papers that sometimes a million dollars, sometimes more gold, came down.

That day then I wonder and wait for a day or two to see if any thing else came down besides gold for haven't I had the promise of seeing, for a short time anyway, what to me is better than millions of gold. That is the only thing in all this beautiful glorious world that takes my peace of mind, that destroys my contentment, for when a ship is due I await first as if the hundreds million dollars it would bring all belonged to me. Someday my ship will come and then home I will go to tell you all of my triumphal journey to the Coast which I took in order to follow my love.

July 28

Ha! Ha! I see last writing I had grown sentimental. Too bad, too bad. Now I will make up for it for I have to write about yesterday. I really excelled yesterday in laziness. Altogether we spent two hours in the morning washing. Yes, we washed for nine people and got it all done in a remarkably short time. I stood by the rinse tub and Mrs. D. rubbed and they were transformed into clean shining sheets and towels just as quick as if a fairy had been there. Ha! ha!

Now this morning I had a slight head ache (I slept in the tent, Mr. D. was in town) about eight o'clock and I concluded it was the heat on the tent. So I crept out and left the rest sleeping and went to swing in the hammock.

Oh, we have got the dearest darlingest hammock you even heard tell of, and it is just across the yard from the sleeping tent, or across the parlor as we call it. I slipped a blue wrapper over my pink flannelette gown and curled up to have a good sleep. I was bare footed and the dew on the grass was just like a rain and in about two hours Mrs. D. puts her head out of the tent and says, "How long have you been up?" So I told her and she got up and proceeded to get breakfast.

I went to bed again and had another sleep, and when I finally got up and dressed, it was eleven o'clock. Mrs. D. was in the hammock and, mind you, aside from drinking a cup of tea and eating a slice of toast, I haven't turned over my hand to do another thing. Neither has any one. All the kids are down to the beach and I lay under the trees and read. Mrs. D. reads and the few dishes that we had breakfast on, sit on the table. Also the butter does and the half a loaf of bread and the pail of milk the milk boy brought. The dish water has been hot and got cold for about the third time and here I am scribbling, and the clock points to twelve. I felt like scribbling and I did so. Mrs. D. is reading Tennyson. And the beds are to be made and the lunch got, and I am going to lay down again and have a dip into a novel called Lady Isabelle's Ailment. Ha! ha!

Oh, how I do long for one of my dear girls to share my heaven with me for paradise can have no less trouble than I have out here on the shores of beautiful Puget Sound.

You may be wondering why Allie or Laura does not come in for a mention, but I can not tell you exactly why for neither of them have been here this week. Laura went in to town Sunday with her [father] and I guess she is mad because Mrs. D. does not like a girl friend of hers who came out to visit her. And I am just too happy to give them a thought or two, for that is troublesome. I mean if they came back, all right and well; if they don't, I can't help it. And I have lived so long that I have found out it don't pay to be "troubled about many things" etc. and while I can, I am taking it easy (mighty easy).

Oh you would laugh to see our house. Camp chairs and boxes anywhere. When we take up the dinner or supper, we don't mind about taking the frying pan back to the kitchen but just throw it down far enough away from the table so we don't put our feet in it. And I was truly astonished at Mrs. D. when she would insist on just turning over the box her tub was on yesterday and letting all the wash water run on the parlor carpet. "Oh," she says, "Go on, it will make the grass grow."

But I forgot to tell you that all the afternoon yesterday Mrs. D. and I went bathing, or she did, nearly all the afternoon. I stayed in as long as I could and when I began to get cold, I lay down on the sand and heaped it all over my bare feet and arms and built a pillow of it, too. It's hot, you know. Just turning [around], you can't stand on it still for a second and as I had been thoughtful and had taken the new Ladies Journal with me I had a most delightful time, I assure you. I tried to swim and we take turns holding up each others chin so we can learn. We don't have to go in to the deep water to do that, you know; only deep enough to cover our bodies nicely.

Evening

Oh an adventure really and truly. A woman lost and tired, a real lady in dress and manner runs past. She is lost and sick with weariness and hunger. We give her a cup of tea and then we take her across the lake in the ferry boat and while I stay [with] the boat, Mr. D. take them and puts her on the car. And a man, a tramp, scares me and then Mr. D. came back and we take a boat ride in the beautiful moonlight.

July 29

Oh my, it was really 10 minutes after eleven when I had a dish of porridge for breakfast and a piece of bread.

Then, from that time, until five, I lay on the ground and don't move it is so hot. Then twenty minutes to six I ask Mrs. D. to go bathing. Well, if you only knew it, that is an unearthly hour to go bathing. The tide is all in and the water cold as ice, but it was too hot to go in the afternoon earlier.

So we sneak away from the kids and run up to the beach and Mrs. D. declares it's too awful cold and wants to go home but I have no mercy and say, "Oh fiddle sticks, I have sworn not to go home without wetting my bathing dress after I once get it on." "Oh," she says, "take it off and dip it in. That will do." But I say, "Not much. I'm going to get wet once anyway." And you all know well my habit of screaming and how loud I can scream. So the first dash of cold water brought a scream from the very tip of my toes and the next dash another. Mrs. D. say, "For heaven's sake, shut up. There comes a man who thinks some one is drowning." And sure enough here came a man bareheaded with two big black water spaniels which he intended to send in after the unfortunate person. Oh, how I laugh and Mrs. D. declares it the best joke she ever heard of.

July 30th

Well, we are alone. It's fine always. Mrs. D. went to the city to get the larder filled up. I am installed with full authority and the hair brush that is Mrs. D's strap, slipper, or corrector, as you like to call it.

We went perriwinkleing this morning. You know a periwinkle is a shell fish. We got two pails full, about fifteen quarts, and then we haven't done anything else today.

Just now I haven't anything on more substantial than a wrap thrown around me. I just came out of the water and thought it would be a good time to write while I was drying. You can't wipe yourself dry but have either to wait until you dry or dress wet; for the salt water makes you so sticky if you rub your self that you would be glad to dress wet.

Nothing of any importance has occurred only that I did not sleep at all last night. A rat got into the small place back in the furnace and after that, I couldn't settle to sleep. Everything I heard seemed to be a man trying to stow himself away in our room. And a flea, the third one that has bothered me since I came to this country, made little mounds all over me. This is truly a wonderful place: no mosquitoes, no snakes, no fleas and for camping out there is no rain either.

I shouldn't wonder the heat in the city is unbearable from what Mr. D. says when he comes out in the evenings, this has been the hottest day yet. I really sweat while doing nothing at all.

Aug 1

Really, I did not write a word yesterday but can tell in a few what took place.

I got up and looked out of our furnace and saw that it was going to be a very, very hot day and knowing that I had to go into town to see a friend of mine who is going away to Maine and to see Allie whom I heard was sick, I, at once, decided to get dressed instead of lying in bed until noon as I thought I would be doing on Sunday. For it was Sunday morning, and very beautiful.

Well, I concluded, no one at the camp would be up so early. I thought it was early and wanted to go and have a bath in the sea before I dressed and my bathing dress was at the tents. So I thought I would slip down in my night dress and get it. And I laughed to myself thinking Mr. Dickinson would believe there was a tramp prowling around etc. Imagine my feelings when I came from behind the trees in view of the camp to see Mr. & Mrs. D. at breakfast and they had a visitor too, a gentleman stopped to speak to them and all the children up and dressed. I really was shocked to think I only had on my night dress. Mr. D. called to me, "Good morning, Miss Royle" before I could get out of sight and I tried to hide and did until the visitor went. Then I tried to explain, said I was going to bathe. "Oh come have breakfast," they said. "Why," I said, "I'm not dressed." Mr. D. says, "You seem to have clothes on." Ha! ha!

Well, I went and had a bath, got dressed and had a bit of breakfast and off to the city I went and had a dreadful hot day of it. [I] had four long car rides before I got back to camp, which I did about eight o'clock last evening. I had a very pleasant time riding for I always managed to get the shady side of the car, but oh, it was hot in the city and now I am back safely to our dear camp again.

I have been amusing myself today by working. It was a very hot day but now it is evening and everything is cooling off and the breeze from the bay is back. Well, I thought I worked anyway. I washed my white skirt and dress and starched them lovely. A lady not far off loaned me half cup of starch and her flat irons and my dress looks lovely. And I am going to iron it in the morning. As for anything else I did, I guess I haven't done much. Only get a pail of water and fry the pancakes we had for lunch. Oh, of course, Mrs. D. and I went boating. In fact, we just got back and I had learned that if I don't want a headache I will always have to wet my head first. Which I proceeded to do today and now my head is dripping with salt sea water and running down my back in little pools but I don't mind it a bit for I only [have] a loose sack on and an old skirt and I am supremely and gloriously happy. Too happy to think but I do things

If those blamed kids don't stop yelling, I shall go and dip them in the bay one at a time. And as the clothes line is near, I can easily hang them up to dry. I had to put them to bed Saturday night and I had a big time, I assure you.

And now that I think of it, I must tell how I got those dear home letters Saturday night at half past eleven. Mrs. D. brought them and I read them by the campfire. And as the beautiful white moon light was flooding everything with its mystical splendor, I got up and finding a seat near the edge of the water, my thoughts traveled many hundred miles away to my darling girls in that far away home. I did not want to be there, but oh, how I wished you were here. There was a [cord], fine and straight like unto an electric arrow shot from my heart to yours, straight it flew, until I felt your loving arm about me, and until I heard your voice in my ear. Then as the moonlight shone over all the beautiful calm water of the bay I felt how powerless I was to bring us any nearer than by this journal in which I could tell you exactly how I felt.

Aug 2nd.

I've got three minutes, perhaps five, before the folks get here to tea. Mrs. D. has gone with the boat to fetch Mr. D. from the car and the kids have gone to watch for them.

I've ironed some today. In fact, done up my white skirt and dress and they look just lovely. I'm going in to the city early in the morning to the depot to see Mrs. Ranson off to Maine on a visit.

Just now I am very comfortable and contented, only I'm hungry and want my tea. I've taken the chance while the kids are gone to steal a potato out of the stew pan. My, it was good. They are boiling yet and a can of mutton is getting hot for tea, too.

We did not go to the beach to bathe, but at five o'clock I said, all at once, "Why, I haven't been in the water today." And straight away I began to pull off my clothes. "Why," Mrs. D. says, "are you going bathing." "Only right here," I said and I only put on skirt and blouse and went to the edge of the bank. The tide had come clear up today and I just hopped in and had a good splash and out again. For I've made up my mind not to let a single day go by without going in and this far I've been in every day.

I think only one more thing today. Without it there wouldn't have anything happened. This morning, as we were busy around. Some one shouted, "Oh, the bull!" And there he was, a great big mouse colored mountain pawing the dirt and lowing humbly. (A drove of cattle passes here nearly every day for water but never him before.) Well, we made our selves scarce, I tell you. Some of us ran into the tents, some up the trees and some up the bluff and he went quietly on. Then we waited for him to go back, which he did soon, and we all descended to our different tasks. I was reading in the hammock waiting for my irons to get hot, and all at once, there right near me was that ominous bellowing. In a [real] horror stricken voice I cried to the children, "Oh my the bull," and if we didn't climb this time! All hands took to the cliff and I carried the three-year-old baby. But this time I thought of taking my book and we stayed up there until the drove of cattle all got past and out of sight. And all day long we watched and dreaded the return of the drove on their way home. But lo, a man was driving them and you may be sure we all rushed to him to know if the bull was ugly. He says, smiling, "Why, you can have a ride on him if you want to," and a mighty load was lifted of our minds and we laughed merrily as we thought of our horror in the morning.

Aug. 3

Dusk so close, I can't see the lines.

I've been to town early this morning and back. It's been a freezing cold day. We all had to put on warm clothes but oh, how perfect these days are. No one went bathing. My hands were blue with the cold.

Aug. 4

My what changes. We have a perfectly lovely day. Strong breeze all day making the table cover switch and sets every thing flying.

Mrs. D came from town last evening with a satchel full of lively books and magazines. We were so interested with the lively reading we read until midnight by campfire. This morning, nine o'clock, we woke up and rousted out little Annie and John and made them get the fire made and get breakfast while we lay in bed and finished our book we were too tired to finish last night.

Mr. D. did not come out last night and I slept with Mrs. D. I ate breakfast in my night dress at the table. Mrs. D sat in bed and ate hers, which I had carried to her. Then we lay down again and the children went to the beach. We did not attempt to even dress ourselves until the whistles blew for noon. Then we arose and got lunch for us two and since then I have divided my time between the blanket on the grass, the bed in the tent and my log on the cliff.

From that last place I have just descended, and what I can see from there would only seem to you like a tale from fairy land so I do not know in what way to tell you of it. This it is to me. Far, far up its side of the cliff is a nook-- in the mornings shaded by an over hanging tree, in the afternoon the bank its self is all in the shade. Straight away in front of me and to the right lies the dark blue sparkling water. Away off is West Seattle across the bay which over now days hangs a blue haze hardly different from the water in color. The sunshine sparkles on the rippling water. The smell of the pine trees is intoxicating and the pure beautiful breeze which rustles the leaves of the alders and brings the songs of the birds to ones ear is all like a long happy dream. The pure delight of it all to me seems centered in the one thing: there are no plagues here. No ant ever bites no matter what kind of a log I lay down on. I can go to sleep under the trees as quick as if it was midnight. No snakes ever startle me. No mosquitoes ever hum around my head annoying me. It is as near ideal as I will ever find life in the world BUT it does lack something. I have to enjoy it alone. None of my beloved darlings are here and I never never look over the scene around me without the long, long, long wistful wish always ending in the two or three words that never change, that never vary. They are these: if Lil could only see it, if Eve was only here. Really you two hang so heavy on my heart sometimes that I can hardly breathe. I get fairly frantic and then it occurs to me I must do something or someone will notice my behavior. And usually it ends by me stripping myself and dashing headlong into the Bay, which is all I can think of now I have what Mrs. D. calls the blue d---l's.

Aug. 5

Well we only slept until 9 this morning in our furnace.

Anna and I, then Anna, went crab hunting. (I don't like crabs to eat. Maybe its because they have to be cooked insides and all. Anyway to me, I should only eat them for revenge, although none has ever pinched me yet.)

We had visitors nearly all day. Two gentlemen from the city but they are married, bah. I don't like such visitors always. Why, oh why, can't some of the nice young men I know come out to see us. I would be so delighted, would show them everything of interest I could find - but- then what would be the use. Mrs. D. would only laugh at me and say, as she once did, "Fie! Miss Royle, for shame.". So I do just the same thing with the married ones.

We all went to the beach and went bathing. Mrs. D's. bathing suit hasn't any skirt and she hates it so they all laughed and then said, "Miss Royle's would be fine enough for Long Beach or Santiago. Oh the bathing today was so lovely, so-so-so dear me, I can never tell what. I took down my hair, waded out to my ankles. Sat down and dipped my head in. Then all the positions I got in to after that would fill a book, I'm telling you. I floated, tried a swim, rolled over and over, got my ears full of water, waded as far out as I could walk and everything but drowned. So, as it's evening and everything all quiet in camp, I will not say anymore.

Aug. 7

I see I am prone to let one day go by sometimes, especially as there is a sameness about things these days. Yesterday, we did not do anything any more than usual. Mrs. D. washed but I did nothing. Only go to bathe and found it so lovely. Oh you can never know until you have tried it what its like to douse and dash splash in the deep water.

Annie was helping me to swim in about three feet of water and she was bravely holding up my chin, that is all that is necessary you know, when all at once my arm got tangled up in her feet. She let go and fell over and I, well, I went down head first and came up again but entirely without breath. Salt water in my eyes, my ears, my mouth. "Oh!" I screamed. "You horrid thing!" But Annie only laughed and declared it was me that was horrid, as she too had fallen over. But she does not care so much at going in all over for she often dives.

Today hasn't been an ideal Sunday for me, I'm sure not because there wasn't excitement and company enough. Goodness knows that was the trouble. There was only seventeen here all day and I did not feel good or Sunday-like at all, although I went to bathe with the rest and had a delightful time I'm sure, but that is why I feel so wicked. I can't. It's impossible [to] feel that I need a Sunday or anything better than this delightful life but away down in my heart I ask myself what will I do when these days end.

Aug. 8

Oh I am sure I don't know what I shall do when these days end.

Aug. 9th

Well I did not say much last night, I am sure, for I had to go to bed.

Aug. 10th

Well, I am excelling these days, surely. But the truth it is, I and we are all of us very much put out Put out is saying it mildly. This is what is wrong. Some friends of Mrs. D.'s came out Sunday for a day's picnic and they liked it so well they have brought a tent and pitched it a few yards from us and come to stay till we go back and we are really selfish enough to begrudge them the freedom of camp life. Ha! ha!

Well their kids and these kids fight and the beautiful rest and quiet that was ours is all gone now. For now there is a continual talking and fussing and a real botheration that I simply detest. There is two women, a man and a boy but maybe there will be some fun when they get settled in. I will make Mr. Jones take us to fish and lots of places Mr. D. don't get home early enough to go to.

And to crown all our griefs we have found (or it has found us), a pest in the way of yellow jackets. They are simply horrid. They want everything that is sweet that they can find. For a week they have bothered us but no one has been stung yet, but I tell Mrs. D. I would as soon die as be scared to death and I am horribly afraid of them. They are as thick around our camp as house flies.

Well, yesterday, Mrs. D., Miss Jones and all the rest of the children and women folks went to bathe. We had slight dispute about bathing dresses. Mrs. D's wasn't finished yet (by the way I haven't said she has made a lovely new one) so I said, "Oh you wear mine and I will swipe Mr. Jones'. He is so anxious to get a joke on me I will be that much ahead of him."

Well you will have to think lively if you can imagine how I look in tights for they were nothing more or less than a short gauge shirt that pulls on skin. Tights and a short pair of pants that don't come near to the knees. Mrs. D says as far as my shape went, I might just as well have been naked. But, oh I did enjoy it. No old skirts to drag me down. I tell you I am thinking I would like a suit for my self. Ha! ha!

I am sure I have left out a lot of interesting things for I haven't mentioned how happy I am in spite of all the bother for didn't I get a letter on one of these great boats that passed us the other day? You bet I did, and I am as happy now as a bug in a rug in spite of all the world going wrong, if it does and I am not sure about that.

Aug. 14

Sunday morning.

I am lying in my bed in the furnace and never did a queen have a more perfect bedroom while out camping than I have. Mrs. D found I did not like to sleep with the kids so the furnace has been fitted up and I now have a bedroom all to my self. The bedstead legs are made of piles of bricks and the mattress is covered with arm fulls of fern for a feather bed so I am better off than many a queen. For I am happy I think and shall go down to camp though soon for I am hungry and I know Mrs. D. must be up by this time. Oh it is like a beach of paradise to me this beautiful Sabbath morn. The birds are singing just like they do in the spring in the early morning. The waves are softly washing on the beach and the church bells are ringing from afar. I've heard the Catholic seven o'clock mass bells, but not our bells yet for its still early. Oh how I long to be as good and sweet always as I feel this morning.

Aug. 17

Oh I am bad really, but surely what I have to say now will make up for what I haven't said for two or three days.

To begin with, Mrs. D. went to town yesterday to "lay in a supply". Now that means a lot to us campers. She bought canned goods to the amount of seven or eight cans. There was fruits and meats and canned vegetables, a flour sack of bread and ours, hers and mine, greatest delight, a dozen new books. We get a dozen every week, exchanging the old ones at the second hand stores and it was late when every one got to bed last night.

Eleven o'clock, well this morning, we couldn't find a single new book. They had been on the table and excitement ran high at their disappearance. We knew there was a thief near. And at lunch we looked around for the canned goods and lo! they were all gone. Then, I tell you, there was excitement. Mr. Jones reloaded his pistol, went to town and got his shot gun. Mr. D has got his pistol and they are going to keep the dog in camp so we have to get used to having the dog to guard us, and now I expect there will be a pile of lamed tramp in the yard in the morning. Ha! ha! Oh yes, they took my pocket book, too. It was a new one and I am mad at them too.

Aug. 18

Oh it is a cold day. It reminds me so much like we use to cook in the back yard at home. Ha! ha! And the wind blows so hard nothing would do but I must hang up blankets around the stove like we used to do and Eve used to say warning up the woods for nothing. But it isn't for nothing here. We are really warming up the woods but its our house.

Every one thought it was altogether too cold to go bathing but I said, "Oh I'm going. I have to go where the waves are so huge and I went and soaked my head and hair with water and had a fine time. But afterwards, oh my, I shiver so. I nearly shook my head off and had to go to bed to get warm.

Well we intend to have a big bon fire so we had to get big logs and while carrying them to camp we had great fun, let me tell you. Half the time, Mr. J. was standing on his head and when he wasn't I was sure to be rolled under the log

Alfred & Dill Hansen
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