Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

sun, usually so kind, beat mercilessly down on the choking plants and trees. Once thunder was heard but it was far to the east.  The sun, slowly went down quivering, among a few gilt edged phantom clouds that seemed glued to the sky and which disappeared as night came on. The suns light remained long after it had dis­appeared. There was a pale on the air; all things had an ominous look as tho they held the secret of some dread thing about to happen.

     This morning I went to work at seven o’clock instead of seven-thirty. The reason for this, might say, dates back to the time, almost, when I first started to work at Mullins, when I acquired a disgust and contempt of Coffee, by reason of his foul mind and laziness. This summer Schweitz and Fynes joined me in this feeling and all summer it has been my especial pleasure to