Expert thieves crept into our sleeping-places, about
four o'clock in the morning, and made off with what they could lay their
hands on. Sheer over-modesty ruined me. It was Sunday, and such a black
mass swarmed around our sail, which we used as a hut, that we could not
hear prayers. I had before slipped away a quarter of a mile to dress for
church, but seeing a crowd of women watching me through the reeds, I did
not change my old 'unmentionables,'--they were so old, I had serious
thoughts of converting them into--charity! Next morning nearly all our
spare clothing was walked off with, and there I was left by my modesty
nearly through at the knees, and no change of shirt, flannel, or
stockings. After that, don't say that I can't get into a scrape!" The
same letter thanks Mr. Fitch for sending him _Punch_, whom he deemed a
sound divine! On the same subject he wrote at another time, regretting
that _Punch_ did not reach him, especially a number in which notice was
taken of himself. "It never came. Who the miscreants are that steal them
I cannot divine, I would not grudge them a reading if they would only
send them on afterward.
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