Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

soon prepared breakfast. It was composed of eggs, fish, froglegs, radishes, bread and butter and cakes, sunshine and cooling breezes - a delightful combination.

     That morning was a lazy one. They fished awhile but presently tired of the heat and came into camp where they went to sleep. I amused myself by making sketches of them. I had just started a good one of Jim when Groner’s dog, Pansy came running into camp with a dozen or so cows at her heels. This woke the bunch up naturally and it fell to me to chase the cows away. I livened up a little and did no with great relish.

     About the middle of the afternoon we started home, so tired out we could hardly drag, but nevertheless insisting to each other that it was worth it. And it was, really.

     A little over a week ago I took a short walk of sixteen miles. But being unused to walking it tired me out. And too I wore