Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

first sullies that delicate bloom of boyhood. It is inevitable of course, and the sentimentalist that they must grow up and substitute for that bloom of innocence, the armour (sic) of reticence, which makes an adult fine; but the sentimentalist in me recoils from the thought. I would keep them unspoiled boys forever. ; I was in a most wild and desolate spot. As far as I could see the great wooded hills like huge magically waves magically motionless waves, extended in all directions. There was something ominous and forbidding about their monotony and endlessness. ; Only one car went by while I was there. ; St. Mary’s (incongruous name) a town given over to brick and tile works; broiling in the sun, a dreary, fantastic scar on the face of the earth. ; Outside of St. Mary’s, I gave two small boys a lift, (as it turned out) to a swimming hole. ; By the time I had reached Ridgeway, and headed north, I was tired, and my mind dulled, so that I saw things as thru a dark film, and received little stimulus from them. ; Sunset north of Springville. ; Home by 9:30. The Dr. thinks the plates should be taken out (after his confidence with Dr. Godfrey (the bone specialist) and Dr. Hammond, the surgeon.