Saturday March 11, 1911
     This morning I arose early and snatched a hasty breakfast, in anticipation of our trip to Tom Richard’s, where we were going to visit a sugar-camp.  I had never been to a real live sugar­camp, so I was awaiting this visit with eagerness. We had Set the time at seven, but Bill was late. When he came over, he began talking about Sam Richards posters which he had seen at the practise out there last night. He certainly had no excellent opinion of them, all of them being as he said, out of proportion; in his opinion, Vid Whinnery’s looked like a fence-rail dressed up.
     We started with little delay; it was a frosty sunshiny morning; everything was white with frost, and the air was deliciously refreshing; robins made the whole air musical with their songs and cries.  All the way out to King’s Bill rambled on about the posters he had seen. King had not been intending to go along with us, but when we came along, we persuade him to come. Our way lead us out Tenth St. to Goshen Ave. which we now followed talking as only three fellows can.
     As we walked along, I sounded King on the base-