My Day by Eleanor Roosevelt

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CAMPOBELLO ISLAND, N. B., Friday—Now that I am established in Campobello, I will own that I did not look forward to the trip with unmixed pleasure. I thought that our caravan of people, dogs and belongings loaded into three cars—a truck, station wagon and my own convertible—might find two days on the road and a night at Ogunquit, Maine, fairly trying. But in Ogunguit, Mrs. Waak, who has a charming old house where she takes in guests during the summer season, was more than kind in looking after us, as were some of her neighbors.

The only tragedy was that on our arrival there, I forgot all about our little two-months-old puppy and left her tied to the back of the truck for hours, until I heard her sad wail when we came back from the theatre. She finally got fed and put to bed.

As soon as we got to Ogunquit, we had to get ready for dinner. To my joy, we went to a place I had passed many times and had always thought I would like to visit, because its name is so intriguing. It is called The Whispering Oyster, and I always wondered where they had picked the name. Others must have felt as I did, because they have a booklet which tells about the origin of the name. It goes back to years ago in London when an oyster whispered in somebody's kitchen. The weeping oysters on the sign, announcing that they are closed on Sundays, reminded me of "Alice in Wonderland."

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Getting to Campobello is always a joy, but they have had a season of fog blowing in at night, though it clears up fairly early in the morning. The first day it blows well out to sea, we are planning a trip to the other side of the island so that the children can see the coast of Grand Manan, which we hope to visit later if the weather holds good at some time while we are here.

Willa Cather, who was one of my favorite authors, used to have a house on Grand Manan and I always wanted to go and see her. I still wonder which books she wrote there. My favorite has always been "Death Comes for the Archbishop." She might even have written that there in the cool summer breezes, though the scene is laid in the warm sunshine of the Southwest.

E. R.
TMs, AERP, FDRL