Out on a bare lonely hillside,
when the sun had dropped from sight
And our beds were made so comfy,
We settled, ourselves for the night.
The soft air of the mid-night
Was stirred by a buzzing sound
As a beast with wings and a stabber,
Raced down like a German hound.
Then the next swooped down, some vicious
And jabbed with his wicked beak,
Till we roared in wrath malicious,
And struck out with a hideous shriek.
Then came the onslaught truly,
A furious mob of the brutes;
We swatted, we batted, all vainly,
We swore (say it softly,--in toots).
They stabbed us, they chewed us, they
bit us:
We clawed, we scratched and we fought;
But the demons continued their slaughter,
Out struggling was worse than for naught.
Oh! for a night on the hilltop
A bed with soft clouds all about.
With the stars overhead and the moonrise!
But ye gods! leave mosquitoes out I
Mrs. Smith
July 27
Camp was nearly itself after our riotous
night on the Pinnacle, when at 7:30 on Saturday evening
Lieut. Gathemann, an officer from Commonwealth Pier
and Mrs. Gathemann, Muriel's aunt and uncle arrived;
also Mr. Sanger and a certain "Billy" Beat
(for information concerning said person go to the
countesses in the back tent and they will be glad
to tell you.) Things went hop-skip and a leap when
they were here. Cow-pasture pool was in progress Sunday morning
and the noted Thrift stamp swimming race in the p.m.
There was a rumor that Mrs. Gathemann
was mortally ashamed of the men for they were so noisy
and rollicking especially at Sunday dinner at the
Tavern, but I am sure we can countermand any such
report.
It was a quiet camp that awoke it-self
on Monday dawn since the Kissel-Kar had gone on to
North Comway. But say! those were some tuck-ins the
officer gave us Sunday! What think you about it?
Barbara Smith.