Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

and days rolling in it. And perhaps there was some relation between dead rabbits and this train of thought. Perhaps it was a regret for the rough healthy pioneer days which is giving place to a sentimental artificial age.; At Negley yesterday sketching. A dappled sky and high wind. It was refreshing still to find the bashfully grinning, lanky type of country youth that act like scared rabbits. I watched some boys playing in a field. The tough of the village, “Punch” by name was a pure Huckleberry Finn type, and quite as likeable. A purely untamed wild spirit he was the real leader of the troop, altho there was another boy who was the physical “boss” of them all; but “Punch” it was who could think of games to play, and who played them the best; his mannerisms in playing “mumbly-peg” were immutable; quite as natural I think as are the mannerisms of birds in doing certain things; he was a mumbly-peg “artist”. He was the ideal leader: jet black