Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

feel to them, without doubt. And with all that, there was something not unbeautiful in those dust clouds. A whirling mass of dust hovering over a cornfield had a beauty all its own.

At Abany, the - we quenched our thirst at a pump which stood in a yard of a country school house. As we walked. we half reg­retted having done so, for we broke out in a strength reducing sweat, and presently we all became so tired we could hardly drag along at times.

     Despite this however, I was able to enjoy some of the rare sights we saw along the way. One was a buckwheat patch, speckled white with flowers. Another was a striking combination of colors - a long field of whitish blue-green cabbages with a clump of lemon yellow wild sunflowers in front. Once I noticed that the ground under a walnut tree was speckled black with droppings from feed­ing caterpillars. On looking up, we saw a great mass of them clinging to a branch. The sight of leaf stems stripped bare