If I staid in all the rainy weather, as you want me
to, I should lose too much time. I guess rainy weather
was made to use. If we didn't use it, there'd be a good
deal of weather wasted. I can always find some place to
dry myself ; and my boots are thick ; and I've got an um-
brella ; and I've learned how to hold on to it, I hope, after
a while. My clothes seem to hold together so far, — all
but stockings. It don't agree with stockings. When
I felt my great toe running against the inside leather, it
didn't feel very good ; and so I pulled the things all out
of my bag to look; and I took that great fat needle you
stuck in that piece of flannel, all threaded with thread,
and pulled it together by the edges. Oh, weep not for
that boggle ! You can unboggle it again, and darn it
with yam, when I come. I sponge my clothes night
and morning, partly on tlieir own account, and partly
on account of all you Summer-sweeting folks. So you
may be easy about my looks, excepting one bodge of
white paint that I got on my sleeve off somebody's gate,
There they ought to've stuck up, "Beywaro of paint!"
It won't sponge off; but that isn't my fault. I sponge it
enough. 'Tis a bother ; for I have to stand sideways to
people, especially ladies: and 'tis an even chance I shall
fdtget to ; for who wants to keep a bodge of paint on
their mind every minute ?

I think I shall make a good deal of money this trip.
