Compared with Tyler St. the children here seem very quiet. I think they are unusually so anyway. I just heard two make some noise and it sounded very strange. Of course, they are shy, too.
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For two years I have been associated with Denison House, Boston’s old settlement center on Tyler Street, where the children are anything but quiet. There they are mostly Chinese and Syrians. All city children somehow seem noisy. Perhaps that is because of their cramped surroundings. And especially, of course, the urban child is boldly independent, while the children of remote communities have so little contact with the outer world that they are self-conscious with strangers.
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Log Book:
June 9, 1928.
The evening of the day is here. The boys and I played “rummy” all the morning and I lost for a change. At luncheon we had lamb stew. Apparently no one knows about cooking lamb except by boiling. I should love to have a chop. At supper we had fresh salmon. It was delicious. Slim and I sat and talked over the meal while Bill went to W.U. The boys had been out fishing in the afternoon. They started to explore a cave but found the water too rough. There are two good caves here which have never been explored. How I’d like to explore them. There might be buried treasure—in fact, there have been several attempts to dig up some at the other end of the bay. I don’t know who the “buriers” are supposed to be.
Mr. Deveraux has just come in and suggested we go eeling. I have just returned from a walk and the boys from Fulgoni’s. Eeling is off. The gang is going down on a gasoline rail car for a ride. They have wired the Supt. for permission to use it and are off to Biscay Bay. They wear their flying suits, as the wind is really cold.
Our telegrams decreased today. I had time to wash my hair. I wish I had manicuring facilities and a bath tub.
June 10.