dust of the fenders, an action that was like the way a horseman strokes his horse – a bachelor “in the fifties” living with his 85 year old mother – he knows the dates of building of every house and barn in the valley –
     A fine several hours painting the huge mellow-red barn tho it took me some time to get in the swing – the old farmer who held my umbrella to keep the wind from blowing it away – farmers and boys came from time to time – one who thrust a newspaper under my nose to convince me that Wall St. had had a 5 ½ million share day on Monday – The hot dry air – Cicadas – great cumulus clouds sweeping out of the N.W. – from time to time I watched their great ragged shadows moving slowly over the Bald Eagle range to the east ( the main creek I learned was also Bald Eagle Creek, the valley having the same name).
     After lunch I can work no longer – down to Creek to bathe but it looks too deep (later I learned it was 12 to 15 feet deep) in places.  The long hot walk back to the village –
     After supper with Cook to look at other barns between Beech Creek and Mill Hall – “Peel” Hagen and his financial troubles – his high pitched voice – “blow up their god-damned bank” old stone houses – one 130 years old –
     Wed. A.M.
     A rainy sky – after breakfast walk out in hills – winding yellow dusty roads – poverty stricken characterless houses dirty ragged children – plants dying in the hillsides – at 10:30 Cook takes me south in search of old colonial barn which we fail to find-
     A sudden attack of homesickness assails me and I persuade Cook to drive me to Lockhaven – pack hurriedly and off we go, tho as we went along I felt regret over my hasty action –
     Eat lunch Mrs. S had fixed me in station – on train – between Renovo andOleanrun into several rain-storms – white clouds tearing at the mountain peaks –
     Home fromE. Auroraby taxi – how pleasant to greet my family!