Sunday, November twenty-fourth.
Olson declares this day to be Sunday and in honor of the day he gave me a cup of milk for junket. And in honor of the day, whatever it is, I worked so hard that now I’m tired out. The day began with snow and continued with it. It blustered and blew much as a day in March and the bay looked wild. And now to-night it is clear and starlight. Will the north wind begin to blow again to-morrow? The chances are that it will and Seward and the sending of my mail will be as far away as ever. I painted with some success for the snow makes the cabin lighter. Really my picture looks well. Eight canvases are far along so that I’m proud of them. We cut wood to-day of course; it would be great fun if only we’d more minutes of daylight to spare. Steamer must be due in Seward now. We’ve seen none for two weeks or longer.