Saturday, October fifth.
A hard day full of little bits of work. Sawed up a tree alone,—to punish Rockwell! for not studying. Caulking the east side of the cabin—the last side. Painted, baked, and built myself an arrangement out-of-doors to sketch in comfort. I sit on the board with my palette—a box end—secured before me and my picture above it. Rockwell took his punishment so to heart that in the afternoon he read ten pages in his book. All of to-day has been overcast, but with a clean, refreshing atmosphere. In the account of Anson’s voyage around the Horn it is remarked that fair weather in those latitudes rarely lasts. It may be true of the same latitudes north.