manner. We patted him gently on the back, and I woke.
                                                              March 11, 1938 (Friday)-
      On my walk, by the railroad, I noticed a huge flock of starlings in a field, feeding and clattering noisily. Spotty attracted by their clamor, went to investigate. Alarmed at her approach, the whole flock took wing with one movement - hundreds of birds. As they went up, the flock divided, one portion flying over my head. As they flew by, the soft rustle of their wings came down to me, and their bodies, like black stars twinkling, seen thru the branches of the cottonwood trees, was like a miracle of sound and sight. A soft damp wind was blowing from the southeast, whence shown a mist-dazed sun - blowing thru the rattling bleached out grasses; I stood still, afraid to move for fear of spoiling the magic of the moment.
     A letter from Mrs. O’Hara with the color reproduction of my “Two houses under a bridge” which O’Hara is using in a book he is publishing.
     Last night a letter from O’Connor telling me about my current one-man show at the Carnegie Institute.
Forgotten in my account of yesterday’s walk - shortly after passing the pussy willows, I found, or rather Spotty did, a horned Lark with a broken wing. I captured the poor creature with difficulty, and held it in my hand. It was a beautiful thing - with its soft brown pinks tones blending like changeable silk into slate gray, its black bands along the side of its head, and little horns. Aside from the wing it seemed perfectly well. I carried it awhile, thinking I would take it home to the children. But reflection told me that eventually