very little bagage. I shall not
even take my pajjamas. But I'd rather you wouldn't tell mother this; it
would upset her. Will you tell her that I'm really too busy to write, but
that I'm in very fine condition, and she's not to worry about me? And she
said in her last letter something about taking a trip up here so as to be
near us on the hike if anything should happen to me. This is really what
I'm writing you about. Please stop her, father. I'd really rather she
wouldn't even be here when we break camp to take me home in the car. For
I'd like to go home with the Boston bunch in the train.

I think in my earlier letters I wasn't fair to some of the fellows in our
squad. Perhaps I didn't know how to get at them at first. Even now I
don't suppose mother would see anything in them; yet I'm sure that if I
could introduce you to them you'd understand why I like them.

Just keep mother from worrying about me on the hike. I shall be all
right. Affectionatly,

DAVID.

FROM PRIVATE RICHARD GODWIN TO HIS MOTHER

Plattsburg, Sunday the 24th.

DEAR MOTHER:--

This morning it has turned chilly, without sun, and with clouds
threatening more rain. As before, I did some washing before breakfast,
and now have on the line considerable of my laundry, which I am anxiously
feeling of from time to time. If it does not dry, then I shall have to
buy some new things for tomorrow.

There being no duties today, men are neglecting church and getting ready
for the hike. We must turn in our mattress covers, pillow slips, barrack
bags, and for those who do not wish to buy, the overcoats. The captain
has sent out word that overcoats may be bought, and I have secured mine
by the payment of $9.96; for those who have not the change, the price is
$10. Down the street from the store-tent extends a line of men with their
surplus in their arms, while I take advantage of their necessarily slow
progress to write this to you. One of my pillow-slips I shall retain by
the sacrifice of seven cents; it shall serve as a bag to keep my extra
things together on the march.

Men are making sure of their homeward accommodations. When I went to the
D. & H. tent it was so full of waiting men that I came away, and must go
again. So much for neglecting a duty till the last.

Word has just gone down the street that we must pack this morning for the