Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

55. from the main one. When she had made sure that all was in order in my room, she warned me to lock my door and bidding me a goodnight, left.

     A soft cool breeze was stirring the curtains at a south window. I went and sat by it a moment. It was very quiet except for the calls of katy-dids. Without undressing, I lay down on the bed, and oddly enough just as I was becoming drowsy, I awoke.

                        December 19, 1934 -

     I finished reading “The Story of an African Farm” by Olive Schreiner, tonight, and sat for some time in such an ecstatic reveny as it is rarely my lot to enjoy. A grand book! – what joy it is to find one more treasure to add to the store that slowly accumulates thru one’s life – that store of great minds, great works of art, and expressions that peculiarly belong to us. They come generally out of a clear sky, unheralded. I was filled with a joyous warmth of feeling, and sat thinking of some of the things that I love some of the human beings who mean so much to me. Bertha was playing Christmas Hymns on the piano in the same room, and happened to be playing