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Consolation The violence in Civilized parts is worrisome. We have old New York Papers describing riots, I advise thy absence from that country. We are well away, our last named place being St. Augustine a poor sandy town profuse of oranges, some buildings entirely in a plaster made of coarse ground shell. The shadows of orange trees against the brilliant walls were pleasing, though the fruit sour. The weather is unruly, unreasonably hot one day & cold the next. In consolation I have seen a new Eagle I hope to kill tomorrow. What dangers we have are predictable, from Nature who can be used against herself. I do not walk into water unless it be a living bouillabaisse. Though my legs are bruised where the fish slap in panic their presence ensures no alligators. Plato suffers, for when hot his habit is to plunge into the nearest water & swim slowly, looking sleepy, for hours, & I prevent him. I bind his paws with leather because they are raw, cut by the shells of raccoon oysters, common here; he has been bit in the face twice by Ducks, one he dropped and I shot again. We are all Abraded, Lehman & Ward & I, from shells & sand & Insects which are hugely plentiful & we are welts & salt-sore scratches everyone. Please send more good Woollen socks, the marsh & mud & tide flats we travel wear them urgently. 42 ...

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