with Paul, I start out on my trip. For a space the road was rocky but I soon struck smooth & wassoon felt the cold morning wind on my face as I sped along hill & down. On a steeps hill I put the brake on too hard and after a frightful screech, I found that the brake did not immediately release; it gradually grew worse until I had to pedal down hill. The wonderful hills around Wellsville revived my spirits, and after leaving my wheel at a repair shop, where the man grudgingly promised me my wheel at 1:30, I took my materials & set out to sketch.
    My goal finally turned out to be a nondescript house made of tiles & all sorts of monumental scraps of decorations, in which lived a negress & her two children. I made a rotten sketch but on account of my own haste & the wrangling of a nondescript audience composed of all races & ages; but the latter afforded me a lot of amusement. Over the door of the house was the mask of an old man, which the crowd called the husband of “Mis’ Jones” “Mis’ Jones” and the splendid African type came and stood in the doorway purposely so I might sketch her, & when I did so, protested loudly, but was unable to conceal