Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

seen him at the friday last, but still erect, and full of the same fire, conceit, and spicy phrases. His expressions tho [sic] normally bawdy, and sometimes blasphemous, and often without logic, one nevertheless so picturesque in themselves, and determined with such vehemence and violence, that I find myself chuckling at them, and even admiring them. They are so much a part of the man, indicative of his sturdy self—reliance, and hatred of hypocrisy.; But I had a terrible time getting away from him. He followed me to the door, and kept up a continual stream of talk. I finally had to be almost crude.; Before going to Paddy’s, I had made a few sketches of the Genesee St. Bldg. While I was working, a middle aged man, wrapped in a muffler, and stooped over, came & started talking. “His brother was an artist, too” – served in Germany, was a colonel in the last war, and no doubt in this one etc. “All of us have some special gift” he went on “now mine is telling people what their business is” – when he was out west several years ago, he “hitch-hiked” his way from place to place; - it amused him to tell his benefactors what business they were in. He never failed, he said, and probably there was some truth in his claims, for his explanations of how he figured out their trades, were logical and used in shrewd observation.; When I got home, B & C & A & I take the old car out to a country road where B took some pictures of it. We all began to feel