Delhi, India

Thursday, June 13, 1929

Back again. Feels like an old home. Got in after noon and on the way out to our hotel stopped off at Cook’s, the Post Office, and Telegraph Office. Mort had five letters, Frank had a large package of miscellaneous things from his mother on which he had to pay $4.00 duty, and I had a letter from Uncle Billy and a wire from Calcutta where my missing 100 reposes with Amexco. I wired for it and shall, tomorrow I hope, be able to pay back the Rs 70 or so the boys have lent me. I hate to borrow this way, but it is the only recourse sometimes. They have been more than generous about it. Hope I can build up a reserve to help me over the rough places—but have a poor start for the first two weeks of this month having spent some $32.41 in the first two weeks, leaving about $70 to get down to Colombo on—probably over 3,000 miles from here.

A bath and food sure felt good. Have spent much of the afternoon throwing and giving junk away till now I really haven’t so many more clothes to get rid of. Have to get a parcel off for home tomorrow and my money from Calcutta.

Had some peculiar weather here today. It was cloudy. Suddenly a wind sprang up and in two minutes the dust made it so dark one could hardly distinguish the outline of a house 100 feet away. The thick atmosphere was a copper-gray hue—an unnatural light. It commenced to rain a little after ten minutes so slowly, degree by degree, the dust was settled and it grew light again. This queer phenomenon is the forerunner of the monsoon which is working north up through India. My soldier friend in Amritsar said the rain there last night is nothing at all in comparison to the regular monsoon. Gosh! Too bad for us. Might as well throw away the slicker and wear a loin cloth: the result will be the same.

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