he loves mud any more than we.[i]
                                                                          Thurs. Nov 24 1910.
     Gee but this has been a strenuous day.  In the morning as planned, I went over after Bill and we proceeded to the ball-park.  It was a perfect day - overhead.  The sky was a deep clear blue, - so deep that it soothed the eyes to watch it.  And the sun was shining forth in his last feeble effort to touch up the brown + grey trees + ground and put on a semblance of Indian Summer again.  But underfoot it was still muddy - where the sun shone, for Jack Frost had only lightly touched the ground the night before and wherever the sun’s rays struck, immediately was mud.  Here and there too, pools of water reflected