CAMPOBELLO, N.B.— My mother-in-law who arrived several weeks ago and who has the cottage next to us up here, came over to supper with us last night, and my neighbors on the other side, Mrs. Prince and her daughter, Mildred, originally from St. Louis joined us also. We sat after supper in the old school room, which Miss Cook and Miss Dickerman have been rearranging for me with Val-Kill furniture, they were making and hanging gay tan and red and green curtains. Mama and Mrs. Prince are both over eighty, so Mrs. Prince told us how she remembered as a girl a dance at Annapolis, when on a dare she poked President Grant.

I had just received two articles presenting opposing views on certain theories of morality, with the suggestion that I comment. Of course, this is out of the question, but I thought it would be interesting to hear the opinions of our two elderly guests. My mother-in-law said: "I don't understand such theories at all." Mrs. Prince said: "Of course, Mrs. Roosevelt wouldn't grasp them!" I often wonder which is best, to be honest about what you know in this world, or to continue to deny you know it and thereby fool yourself into believing that it does not exist!

Miss Dickerman, Mrs. Scheider and I went down in the afternoon to the little village of Welch Pool, which is rather oddly named as there is no pool and collected the mail held there for my husband and his party and stopped at the Customs to explain that we had brought nothing contraband with us. Then we drove over to the other side of the Island to look at the Bay of Fundy, from one of the most beautiful beaches I know. It is a long crescent shaped beach with promontories of rock at each end rising sheer out of the water, capped with pine trees, under which is a thick carpet of moss. We own one of these little points and I always like to go over there for at least one picnic meal while I am here. You see the cliffs of Grand Manan in the distance on your right and out ahead of you nothing but the water stretching clear to Spain.

Mrs. Scheider asked one of the people we brought with us from the White House if he liked it up here and his answer was: "Indeed I do, this is the sort of place one dreams about."

Both evenings we have watched the sun going down back of the mainland, making the sky from the Denny's River to the St. Croix a mass of unbelievable color. The only visible signs I have so far seen of the work done on the dam is that two of the islands at the mouth of the Denny's River are now connected by a long link. Someday I shall have a look at what work has been done.