ELLSWORTH, Maine—We spent last night in the Danish Village, a little place that I had often noticed in coming through, about six miles before you reach Portland. It looked attractive and I thought it would be fun to try it. We had a vague hope that we might get by without being recognized and causing much excitement, so I sent Mrs. Scheider in to find out if we could get a room and have dinner as it was already twenty minutes before eight. I have learned from sad experience that seven o'clock is sometimes the deadline! She returned triumphant with the key to one of the little houses and word that we could eat whenever we wished. We got out our bags , locked the car and took possession of our abode.

After walking around to stretch our legs for we had come over three hundred miles, we went in and ate a perfectly good Maine lobster dinner, for there is no attempt to give one Danish food.

Only one lady came up and asked me for an autograph, but as we were wandering about afterwards I suddenly heard a familiar voice say: "Hello Mrs. Roosevelt," and I turned to see Dorothy Hill of Buffalo. She is taking a few weeks vacation after running an Institute on Public Affairs at Wellesley.

On leaving this morning at seven thirty the man at the desk said with joy: "We made the front page of the Portland paper which was good advertising." So someone was happy. When I stopped for gas the man said: "Glad to see you Mrs. Roosevelt." I asked: How did you know me?" to which he replied: "I read the papers quite a bit."

I enjoy going through these Maine towns and villages. There is a certain dignity about the houses which is very pleasing. For decoration they depend almost entirely on the carving of a doorway or the fan shaped window over the door but they all look rooted in the ground they stand on. They have a cared for, lived in look acquired only by houses which have been homes for generations. These houses are not opened for a month or two and then left by their owners who flit to some other place and some other house. Here whole lives have been lived and the house partakes of the atmosphere of past and present human beings.

I am lunching with Miss Mary Dreier at her white farmhouse out on a point in Southwest Harbor and then we'll go on to Lubec where we take the ferry to Campobello. Miss Cook and Miss Dickerman join us here and go on with us.