After this dancing in the dew you return for a few more rounds
with your hammock, clean up your bay and stand in line for breakfast.
After breakfast we muster again and a gentleman talks to us in a voice
that would lead you to believe that he thought we were all in hiding
somewhere in New Rochelle. Then there are any number of things to do
to divert our minds--scrub hammocks, pick up cigarettes, drill, hike
and attend lectures. As a rule we do all of these things. From 5 p.m.
until 8:45 p.m. if we are unfortunate enough not to have a lecture
party we are free to give ourselves over to the riotous joy of the
moment, which consists of listening to a phonograph swear bitterly at
a piano long past its prime. The final act of the drama of the day is
performed on the hammock--an animated little sketch of arms and legs
conducted along the lines of Houdini getting into a strait-jacket, or
does he get out of them? I don't know, perhaps both. Anyway, you get
what I mean.
[Illustration: "THIS IS DESIGNED TO GIVE US PHYSICAL POISE"]
_March 17th._ This spring weather is bringing the birds out in great
quantities. They bloomed along the fence today like a Ziegfeld chorus
on an outing.
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