Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

like a bird dog’s; and indeed they reminded me of the eyes of a homeless mistreated dog – wild, staring, appealing for mercy but expecting none. I never have seen such terrible eyes as hers – a person would have to be shallow & hard not to pity her from the depths of his heart. She sat on the edge of the car-seat, nervously glancing out at the street, then at the conductor, twitching and clinching her hands in her lap in nervous apprehension. She was afraid she would not get off at the right stop.
The third being in this picture, was not as important as the other two, but she served her purpose as a foil for them, she filled me with neither pity nor horror, but disgust. Not because of her color, for she was a negress, but because of her vast cow-like stupid plycidity (sic). Huge & brawny she sat stubbornly, a huge mountain of brown flesh, seemingly as incapable of thought or emotion as a huge side-board or buffet. She had on a sky-blue silk hat, with a band of gilt-thread woven ornaments across the front, a black coat, decorated only by an artified blue flower.
The destination of the woman with the

June 17, 1926

wild black eyes was apparently Georgia St. for as we neared that stop she grew more & more agitated, glancing more rapidly from the window to the conductor & half-rising from her seat several times. Finally she made up her mind & stood up and rung the bell. As she brushed past the man with the rolling eyes, he stopped her & spoke a few words to her. She nodded and rushed to the front of the car. The vestibule of the car is divided into entrance & exit aisles & she was uncertain which was the exit – she stepped down first into one &