Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

but I wanted to show to Mother – and almost tenderly put it in my button hole, for safe-keeping.  Hypaticas blooming!  Yes it is Spring when they come again!

With this little flowers in my possession, I went on looking in every direction for more hypaticas, but I found none.  Soon the path broadened into a road, which I followed to the bridge, over it, and around a bent, to the Painter Road.  I turned westward on this road, intending to go on thru Forkers and Bentley’s Woods, to look for more hypaticas.   As we neared the home of Johnny Bull – an Englishman who had a dangerous temper, by name John Howells; he does when he’s mad! – three big dogs of assorted sizes and kinds came barking  down the hill; one was a big black and white shepherd dog; another was a large bony black + tan hound-like creatures that made most of the noise, and a rabbit dog brought up the rear with his baying.  Buster, at the sound, had started over into a field on the opposite side of the road, very much frightened; - and no wonder!  He was smaller than any of them.  As the big black and tan dog went past me, he sort of half wagged his tail at me, but then rushed on after Buster.  He was having a sad time of it.  The dogs had come up with him and