TRAVEL: TLIP c geologists to U.S.Southwest 1902 to [3] [July 1902 Train Trip to Denver, Co: Enroute to join Prof. W.Davis for Geological Research At about eight o'clock in the morning we passed through Cleveland, in Ohio, which, so far as I could see it from the train, is a city built on flat allu- vial land, close by the lake, where a river of some size cuts through it, the cut the river makes being bridged over in a strange=looking fashion by railroad and street-car lines running on trestles on various levels. Soon after we left Cleveland I got my first glimpse of the lake, which possibly had been hidden by the mist and sheets of rain we had been running through before; it seemed only to continue out the fatness of the land with its pale green waters made muddy by the torrential rain. The elder grew freely along the road- sides and was in full white flower, and it was the only flowering plant I noticed. We passed through great vineyards which interested me in showing in how severe and cold a winter region vineyards can be made to pay. A little later the train came fully out upon the lake, skirting its shore, which is low and gravelly. In the afternoon the rain stopped, it grew very hot, and a dense smoke from the engine poured in through the open windows of the cars. The great fields of corn and winter-sown grain, which was just being reaped, the green fields of grass, beautiful in contrast with the brown stubble land of the green fields where the grain had been already reaped, made the ride quite beautiful in spite of heat and smoke and the monotony of the great, far-stretching plain which we were passing through and which had nothing that was picturesque in the way of human habitation in it to give it interest. Here and there were woods of hickory and oak and maple, occasional tulip trees among them, and in open spaces among the trees there was a wild rose flowering very freely which I took to be the Michigan Prairie rose, Rosa setigera. These were the last woods of deciduous trees, other than poplar, which I saw for a long time and the first real woods of any kind that I saw until I reached the Rocky Mountains. The elder grew so abund- antly along the roadside and the borders of the fields and flowered so freely that it was quite a feature in the landscape as we passed, and there was a bright red lily with re-curved petals, too, that grew abundantly in places, and a few other plants in flower whose color helped to light the roadside up as we went by. July 4th. I woke to find my train at a stand-still at a little country station in western Illinois, stopped by a wreck upon the line a few miles further on, and it was some hours before I got away. We were in a flat, treeless country which looked exceedingly fertile and very green and pleasant in the morning sunshine. There were great fields of corn, a foot or so in height, extending out around us, grown in wonderfully straight rows, the ground between them, weedless and well cultivated, had a fertile, mellow look and a rich, dark color that set off the freshness of the growing corn quite wonderfully and in the freshness of the morning sunshine, coming after rain, the level landscape looked like some fair garden-ground stretching out to the horizon in gentle slopes and undulations. After the train started again I saw a number of flowers that interested me, growing along the roadside, among them a morning-glory running freely among the plumy grasses which were growing there in great variety. And there was a cone-flower growing there, in form like some of the rudbeckias I have grown at home, but with pale-red, drooping ray-flowers, few in number. Besides the corn, there were great fields of grain just ripe for cutting, but the aspect of the country is a very different one, more smiling, rich and fertile-looking, than that which I passed through yester- day to the south of Lake Erie and the Michigan Peninsula. Sunflowers, too, began to show themselves in flower 4 along the roadside as I went westward and plants I do not know, with showy heads of fiery red flowers, which grew quite freely, and there was also a wild rose of creeping habit that grew along the roadside and had deep crimson flowers, and another blue-flowered plant which I had grown at home, although I cannot recall the name of it. There are few fences in this country only where animals are pastured, apparently, or along the roadsides; and what fences there are are all of wire, and slight. Late in the morning I reached the Mississippi River and got a splendid view of it, for the train stopped a while, mid-stream, upon the bridge. It is a great river even here, a couple of hundred miles or more above its junction with the Missouri. It was flowing with a full strong stream, brown with earth and broad like the Nile at Cairo. Heavy rains have made it unusually full, they say, for this season, and the sight of its rolling flood was most impressive in the sense it gave one of its vastness, power and volume. In crossing the Mississippi I passed from Illinois into Iowa, the river making the eastern boundary of Iowa, along its whole extent. After another hour or two's ride to the westward, my train reached Cedar Rapids, which is on a fairly large river, flowing to the Mississippi, and later on in the afternoon I crossed $ the Des Moines river flowing also south eastwardly to the Mississippi and marking at its junction with it the boundary between Missouri and Iowa. The Des Moines river has made itself a deep and narrow cut through the level, upland plain it flows through, and this the train crossed upon a newly-built steel bridge which the conductor told me was 161 feet high and the highest of its breadth in the world. I looked down from the observation platform at the rear of the train while it went slowly over it and the seeming slight- ness of the structure we were on and the breadth and depth of the space it spanned made the sight as I look- ed down and back, a very striking one. The narrowness of the river valley here and the depth of the cut, compared with it must signify a very recent uplift in this region. In this region the whole plain, with the exception of occasional great fields of oats, seemed given up to Indian corn, which evidently grows wonder- fully well there. Thousands of acres are planted with it in single fields. There is a good deal of grass land, however, in between these fields of corn, which seemed to be pastured and not grown to hay, but only the poorer land apparently is used for this and the grass looked thin and poor though a good deal of stock, horses and cows, were pastured on it. A good deal of the land, too, was marshy in character, the plain being too level in its general character, and the soil evidently too retentive, to give good drainage. I saw no trees in this region except those that had been planted or that grew in hollows along the water courses -- poplars, willows and the like -- nor any large ones. Sunflowers grew wild along the rail- road side. Late in the afternoon the country grew more hilly, undulating with long slow rises, as we approach- ed the Missouri river which we reached at Council Bluffs a little before dusk and crossed to Omaha in Nebraska. The Missouri makes the western boundary of Iowa, except in the nor thern part, as the Mississippi does the whole of the eastern one, each then continuing on to make the western and eastern boundaries of the Missouri in its northern portion. The Missouri River, where I crossed it, has cut itself out a steep-sided valley a couple of hundred feet or more below the level of the country which it flows through, which seemed to be two or three miles in width. On the flat land in the center of it is the railroad junction, depot and shops which mark the eastern end of the Union Pacific Railroad. From there a steel bridge leads across the Missouri to 7 Omaha, built up upon the bluffs that over-look the river on its western side. It was nearly dark when I passed through Omaha and I saw nothing of the scenery beyond until I woke at dawn the next morning, July 5th, to find myself passing through an open prairie land in western Nebraska, skirting the southern fork of the Platte river in what seemed rather a broad, sandy wash than an actual river valley. All night long we skirted the Union river, flowing westward through Nebraska and entering the Missouri just a few miles below Omaha where I crossed it. I went out on the back platform of the train just as the sun was rising and it was very striking to see the level, open, and uncultivated plain stretching out behind us in the level rays of the rising sun. Soon afterwards we reached Julesburg where the line of Denver leaves the Union Pacific and passes south-west- ward into Colorade, running through a region of arid plains, wild, treeless, and unfenced, with here and there SIEUR DE MONTS PUBLICATIONS XIV Two National Monuments: The Desert and the Occan Front. DOCT 1219 251056 Met 1903 Duits DEPARTMENT OF THE INTERIOR NATIONAL PARK SERVICE ZION NATIONAL MONUMENT GEORGE BUCKNAM DORR Custodian, Sieur de Monts National Monument In the summer of 1902 I found myself one August afternoon, when corn was ripe and grapes were ripening, starting out on horseback from the Mormon village of Kanab, where the Kanab river issues from the Vermilion Cliffs onto the Antelope Plains, to find what geologists familiar with the West had told me was one of its most wonderful sights, the Zion Creek canyon of the north fork of the Virgin River. That canyon has now become a national monument, Zion by name; while the island on the coast of Maine which I had left some weeks before to seek that region has become, in its main mountain range, a national monument also, the Sieur de Monts. These two monuments, each in its own way a natural park of supreme landscape interest, exhibit remarkably in their difference the extraordinary range of natural scenery that the National Park Service, step by step, is reaching out to cover. What the Sieur de Monts Monu- ment is and stands for, other papers in this series tell; in contrast, it seems worth while to tell of its far-off companion whose surrounding is the desert, beautiful as the ocean in its way, and whose sculptor has been not ice and ocean, as the Sieur de Monts, but a stream, plunging steeply down to lose its waters in the western ocean. r IN ZION The immense solitudes of that region, heightened only in effect by their occasional life, dominate the impression 3 that it makes of wildness and primeval character. To the east and south, with an amazing exhibition of ancient volcanism in between, the Colorado River-seeming a mere thread in that vast landscape-lies sunk and inac- cessible in its mile-deep canyon. To the west lies Nevada, sterile for lack of moisture, robbed by the Sierras; to the north, that remarkable interior valley of the Utah Basin, whose waters, like those of the Jordan, never reach the sea. It is a region of strange contrasts of sterility and life in the plant world. The land that water reaches blossoms like a garden; what water fails to reach is desert. Soon after I and my companions on the journey left Kanah that August afternoon we feasted-not wisely but too well upon my part-at invitation of the owner on watermelons growing in an irrigated garden that our way led past; for we were "travellers in a thirsty land." Later we rode on, through dusk at first and then through a wonderful moonlight which lighted up long plumes of silver sage on either side our trail, to an old Mormon on the ground and slept. fort and place of springs, where we threw our bedding Soon after dawn we rode away again across the plains and on till noon, without meeting anyone or seeing any trace of human habitation. At noon we reached a wide, shallow pool, thirty or forty aeres in extent-a gathered run-off of the spring-time rains-one part of which as we rode down toward it appeared blood-red by reflection from the neighboring Vermilion Cliffs; the other, blue, in sharp contrast, from the sky. In this, wild range-cattle stood, knee-deep, drinking and cooling themselves. There we lunched in the shadow of the canvas-covered " Prairie Schooner" which carried our supplies; then mounted and rode on. The way was long ahead, and the horses were urged on at a jog trot. Presently I dropped behind with what seemed at the moment but a touch of 5 indigestion, but which later proved the forerunner of a sharp and sudden illness, similar to ptomaine poisoning. The others, unaware, passed on and out of sight, and I remained alone-becoming presently quite desperately ill. Later, recovering and following their trail, I came to lost the cattle-trodden bottom of a dried-up pool in which, unknown to me, the trail divided, and I turned-wrongly for the point I aimed at-down between two mountain masses toward the setting sun. Daylight passed into starlit evening, and evening into moonlit night while still my horse and I wound down into the valley, spreading out-dim and mysterious- beyond. In it, far away, lights as of human habitation seemed to glimmer, then vanished to reappear again elsewhere-illusions of the night; and occasionally I heard the cry of some wild animal, a cougar once or NOON REST ON THE ANTELOPE PLAINS-SADDLES LIE ON THE GROUND THE HORSES ARE WATERING twice, and hunting coyotes with their wild pack-laughter. Huge rock shapes loomed spectrally against the sky to right or left as I descended; clusters of silver sage shone white in the moonlight here and there beside the trail, like marble ruins; and where the wet season or occasional cloudburst streams, whose waters gather with incredible speed, had made their way, darkly shadowed cuts were flung across the trail or followed down beside it. Late in the evening, reaching one of these, the trail divided, one branch crossing it and the other passing down its side. I took the one that crossed and later found that had it been the other, the desert only would have lain before me. Midnight came and neither my horse nor I had had food or water for a dozen hours; he grew exhausted, and I had finally to dismount and lead him. At length I came to the river, but sunk in a rocky bed too deep to reach. Gradually, as I followed it along, it rose to the trail level; and the trail soon after seemed to enter it. Crossing, WATERING AT NOON ON THE ANTELOPE PLAINS upon the chance it was a ford, I found myself suddenly, From Kodak Pictures Taken by the Writer in, 1902 7 at half past one at night, in a little sleeping village, lit by the moon but absolutely silent. Each house was set in a luxuriant garden, watered by an irrigating stream led down the village midst. Continuing on until I reached again the river at an upper bend without discovering any sign of life, I turned and approached a house, whose owner, being waked and told of a stranger who had lost his way, promptly double-barred his door and sent me on. But presently, through the kind offices of the post- master, whose residence I ascertained through the barred door, I found myself entertained with kindest hospi- tality, my horse turned loose in an enclosure to feed at will on stacked alfalfa hay, and I provided with a great bowl of bread and milk while my host and his whole family-risen for the occasion-sat round to hear of adventure, and tell in turn of others who had lost their my way in that wide wilderness. The next day, gladdened by a morning sight of those well cultivated gardens, filled with late summer fruits and vegetables, with grapes and the tall stalks of sugar- cane and corn, and set with apple-trees and fig-trees, peach-trees and thick-foliaged mulberries, I rode on up the river and joined my companions at another village, a dozen miles above; and then rode on with them into the canyon we had come to see. It was well worth the coming; a great "intaglio," two thousand feet or more in depth, cut by the river into deep red sandstone that rose sheer from the level bot- tom of the valley in great rounded cliffs. Above, strangely contrasting with it, rose great cones of sand- stone of the weird gray color of the Austrian Dolomites, softer in texture and too steep and smooth to harbor vegetation. A sandy soil covered the valley bottom, de- posited by the river in its times of flood; trees grew over it, and open patches here and there had been planted to corn by people from the villages below. The color of the sandstone was extraordinarily rich and beautiful, 9 contrasting finely with the green foliage below, the pale gray cones and the blue sky above. The valley, too, had breadth enough to obviate the effect of sombre gloom that canyons often have, deep cuts where water in its swing has not had time to cut a wider swathe. Sunlight entered here abundantly, lighting its walls' rich tones and showing the beauty of their weathered faces. One memory I have always cherished. A spring of water, rare in that region and delightful always, issued- at some distance from the valley floor-from a long crack or crevice in the sandstone, and, rooted in the rock-face below, draping and hiding it, there grew a splendid cur- tain of Maidenhair fern with magnificent fronds and long wiry stems that allowed the fronds to freely over-lap, while the water dropped and trickled through the mass to gather at the cliff-foot finally and flow away. The rich color-contrast of the fronds and rock, the fresh green lue and splendid vigor of the fronds themselves, and the de- light of the water dripping quietly down made an im- pression on me in that arid region which is as fresh to- day as then. That night we slept on the sandy valley floor, where I remember the swift passage of the stars against the cliffs, then being waked at dawn by ants, tiny but innu- merable, whom I found attacking me in two apparently well organized and well directed columns, one on either side; and I remember, too, finding when I rose the tracks of a night-prowling coyote in the sand between me and my next sleeping neighbor, not half a dozen feet away. Where we slept that night and watched the breaking of the dawn, the canyon opened grandly out as if for the enthronement of some ancient god, and there, from its deep embayment, rose a dangerous and only trail connecting the canyon bottom with the plains above-a summer-grazing ground for cattle, whose bones marked, like vestiges of ancient sacrifice, the bases of the cliffs it climbed. 11 Beyond this amphitheater, the canyon narrowed quickly, keeping still its depth and perpendicular walls, till finally the river wholly filled its bottom, scarce thirty feet in width, and the sky was hidden overhead in places by the projecting cliffs. The rock is a superb deep-red Triassic sandstone, capped by a softer gray Jurassic, and it is the sin- gularly homogeneous character of these ancient wind- deposits that gives them such extraordinary massiveness of eliff and dome in wasting to the sea. For these are wind deposits, built up by the gales that swept across a desert land ages ago and buried the broad ocean-litoral that bordered it beneath thousands of feet of clean, wind-sifted sand. There is nothing like them elsewhere, in scale or clear-cut exhibition of the force of wind. The gales that built them up must have blown for millions of years across that desert land before the sea engulfed them, as it later did, to be again hove up still later and form a portion of our present continent. The ancient litoral on which they lie, laid bare in places by the Virgin River and in these tributary canyons, shows isolated beds of salt and gypsum where once salt marshes lay, sea shells, and over these, in beds of later date, nu- merous remains of trees allied in type to the vanishing Sequoia group now making its last stand along the west- ern slopes of the Sierra Mountains and on the coast of northern California. They are wonderful relies of the past that should be guarded at all cost. The Vermilion Cliffs-washed by the Colorado River once, now sunk a mile below and forty-odd away in a new bed-and the red walls of Zion Creek are formed of these wind-blown sands, impregnated with iron which cements and tinges them; the gray rock above, seen from the canyon, is formed of them also but without the iron. Zion Monument now is easy of approach. A short ) motor ride across the desert, where the morning and 13 Reclech Is this GBD on original? the evening lights are beautiful and dust-whirls rise at noon in the hot sun to drift like dancing dervishes across the plain, takes one to it from the Lund Station on the Salt Lake route connecting Los Angeles with Salt Lake City. The West affords no single geological feature, save the Grand Canyon only, better worth a visit. SIEUR DE MONTS PUBLICATIONS SIEUR DE MONTS PUBLICATIONS XIV 1. Announcement by the Government of the creation of the Sieur de Monts National Monument by Presidential Two National Monuments: Proclamation on July 8, 1916. II. Addresses at Meeting held at Bar Harbor on August 22, 1916, to commemorate the establishment of the Sieur de Monts The Desert and the Ocean Front. National Monument. III. The Sieur de Monts National Monument as a Bird Sanctuary. IV. The Coastal Setting, Rocks and Woods of the Sieur de Monts National Monument. COCT 12 1920 V. An Acadian Plant Sanctuary. VI. Wild Life and Nature Conservation in the Eastern States. national Mue VII. Man and Nature. Our Duty to the Future. VIII. The Acadian Forest. IX. The Sieur de Monts National Monument as commemorating Acadia and early French influences of Race and Settle- ment in the United States. X. Acadia: the Closing Scene. XI. Purchas Pilgrimes translation of de Monts' Commission. De Monts: an Appreciation. XII. The de Monts Ancestry in France. XIII. The District of Maine and the Character of the People of Boston at the end of the 18th century. XIV. Two National Monuments: The Desert and the Ocean Front. XV. Natural Bird Gardens on Mount Desert Island. XVI. The Blueberry and other characteristic plants of the Acadian Region. XVII. The Sieur de Monts National Monument and its Historical Associations. Garden Approaches to the National Monu- ment. The White Mountain National Forest. Crawford Notch in 1797. XVIII. An Old Account of Mt. Washington. A Word upon its Insect Life. A Word on Mt. Katahdin. XIX. National Parks and Monuments. XX. Early Cod and Haddock Fishery in Acadian Waters. XXI. The Birds of Oldfarm: an intimate study of an Acadian Bird Sanctuary. XXII. The Sieur de Monts National Monument and The Wild Gardens of Acadia. These Publications may be obtained by writing to THE CUSTODIAN, Sieur de Monts National Monument, Sauce Bar Harbor, Maine. DEPARTMENT OF THE INTERIOR NATIONAL PARK SERVICE R. Stanton Avery Special Collections Dept. New England Historic Genealogical Society 101 Newbury Street Boston, MA 02116 1871 - GBD & WWD go to London- then join parents at Baden-Baden (Good copy - to be read for typographical errors) Trace noute on map Italy. 1872-1874 - C.H.D. to Paris for winter, going to Riviera and &WWW to Rome; ChD. returned home in spring; GBD & WWD going again, the same spring to England, Scotland and Wales, with Mr. Dana as a companion on the trip; in the fall of 1873 WWD returned home, & CHD joined GBD for a winter in Paris and on Riviera, returning home in the spring of 1874. (Good copy, but change has to be made, as it is written incorrectly.) 1874 - 1878 -- Abroad - Rome, etc. (unfinished) 1878 - trip to Brittany ; trip to Spain, winter of 1877 to be added to the story. 1882 - Trip to Central Italy & Sicily - Rough Copy 1891-1892 - Trip to Palestine & Up Nile - Good Canoeing Trip to Moosehead Lake with Sam Warren - 1895 1902 - Trip with Geologists - Good 1903 - GBD & Vanderbilts - Good 1904 - To Sierras - Good 1907 - Last Trip Abroad Rough A trip through Virginia Staying at Biltmore Estes Park - (Col. Fordyce 18 Commonwealth Avenue, Boston July 1st, 1902. Curator Gray Herbarium, Cambridge, Mass. For Written obtai Dear Sir, In reply to the circular sent me this spring and which I now seem to have mislaid I enclose you my check for $10. towards the maintenance of the Herbarium, I also wish to ask you whether there is any book or pub- lication which I can ootain which would aid me in studying the flora and forest growth of Arizona and Utah, and similarly of Oregon, Washington and the Canadian Rockies. I am just starting West for Colorado, to most Professor Davis in southern Utah. and join him in an expedition down the western side of the Grand Cañon where I shall be for some weeks. And later I shall probably go un by way of Oregon and Washington and spend a few weeks camping out either there or among the Cana- dian Rockies, and any book, not too bulky to carry, which would help me to identify the plant life in either of those regions I should be glad to know of. What is the best way, also, of preserving the flowers and leaves of plants for later study and identification when one is on a camping trip where weight is of importance and space valuable. As I leave for the West in the middle of the day tomorrow 2 I should be glad if you could let me have some word in reply, if you can conveniently do so, by this evening's mail 80 that I might receive it in the morning. If not,will you kindly write to me to await me at the post office at Provo. City, Utah, where I shall be about the 10th of this month, and oblige greatly Yours truly, Group , [Extract from "An Autobiography by Eugene L. Roberts] 425 I take an extended trip with Harvard University explorers. Two years after the Academy expedition, I had the good fortune to be invited to join a party of Harvard University students of geology for a seven-week trip to the Grand Canyon of the Colorado River in Northern Arizona. These students were led by Dr. William Morris Davis, a world authority on Geology. Accompanying the scientists merely as observers and students of "scenery" were Guss Cobb and George B. Dorr of Boston. I was the guest of Mr. Dorr, a world traveler. My expenses were all paid. My good fortune was the unexpected outcome from a few conversations Mr. Dorr and I had with each other at the Roberts Hotel while the Bostonian waited for Dr. Davis to complete a series of lectures he was giving at the Brigham Young University Summer School. To me, the seven-week trip was a short course in nature appreciation, scenic grandeur, geological wonders, desert biology, and incidentally, New England culture. Much of the time, I rode with Mr. Dorr while the geology students and Dr. Davis studied geological phenomena - especially the Hurricane Fault. Mr. Dorr called my attention to the beauty of the desert landscape, the purple hazes, the brilliant sunsets, the savage grandeur of barren mountains sculptured into grotesque shapes. He led me to observe the fierce struggle going on between desert plants and desert animals fighting for life sustaining moisture. He told me the story of evolution - not a good story for a Mormon to hear. Imagine the reaction of my Mormon parents when I relayed the great drama to them. I shall always be grateful to the Bostonian Bachelor, George B. Dorr, for guiding me into a new world. I have tried to repay him as will be shown later in my story. [Not found] I re-enter Brigham Young Academy. After returning from the Central and South American Exploring Expedi- tion, I enrolled once more at the Academy. The Mormon Church had abandoned football and had refused to allow its educational institutions to include the sport in their athletic programs. This was done in the Fall of 1900. I took the initiative in organizing an "out-law" eleven which we called the "Provo Team" even though the players were nearly all Academy students, and the uniforms belonged to the school. 3 Provo City, Utah, Jan. 2, 1902. Mr. George B. Dorr, Boston, Mass. Dear Mr. Dorr, You will be surprised to receive this letter at such a late date. I have begun three letters to you, but they were never fin- is side due to negligence or interruption. My father wrote that he had had a short visit with you. I am slnd that you have met, but sorry that you could not be together lon- ger. Did you f nd time to talk with him about his experiences in the Test during pioneer days? He siad also that he had called upon Prof. Davis. Dy-the-way, T received a short: letter from the Prof. the other day. He seal that "e was to give a lecture in Boston on the results of our Arizona excursion, and that the lecture was to be illustrated with lantern views of the country. He said that you would cerha S be there. It must have been interesting to listen to his lecture and see the views reproduced in that fashion. The great gorge with its beautiful shadows and stupendous col- mans appears often before me and it is always pleasant to recall such scenes as the sun-set we witnessed while riding together into Kanab al'ter the Buskskin trip. The scenes I remember oftenest are the first views of the canyon from the Greenland points: The many colored strata and the blue evening shadows filling slowly that immense abyss below, and deepening gradually into dark purple. Also the marvelous display of colors in the east during sun-set and sun-rise. How do these seenes compare with those of the Canadian Rockies? I suppose the Canadian scenery is not so savage or brillient as that of the Canyon. Mr. Door, our experience together this summer has been a great help to me in my worh. I am more earnest inney efforts and have high- wave nign- er ideals in life; for which I am indebted to you, and for which I am very grateful. Since you were here I have succeeded in attending xxhxx school by teaching physical culture as a means of paying for the school ing. I have been kept busy nearly all the time. Besides the regular course of study I write up the academy colum in the Deseret News, and take charge of the local department of the college paper. I find, how- ever that to be thus extremely active is to be more contented and hap- pier. This sementer of school has been better for me than has any pre- ceeding one. I have studied harder and accomplished more in less time. But I have also, at times, felt more discouraged and in turn more hope- ful than ever before. The whole school term has been one of ups and " downs." You of course would like to hear about Roy. He is here in Provo keeping books for a large firm. He is not yet married. Roy is a strange person! For two years we had been close friends, but for some inconceivable reason he is now anything but sociable. Something must have happened on the trip this summer but I cannot ferrit out what it was. I wish I could, and could straightenmatter: because I like him. Tell, Mr. Dorr, if you have any time to write to me I shall be glad to hear from you. Frite me a long letter telling me all about yx your Canadian trip, etc. I lost your address and did not regain it till a few weeks ago when I chanced to ask Roy if he knew it. Hopping to receive a letter from you, I remain, Very gratefully yours, Roy Woodley was the s on of President Woolley of the Kanab State nd acted as driver of the supply wagon and cook upon my trip. GBD