Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, January 28, 1911

     This morning was bright & cool.  The blue sky, at first covered with yellow and grey clouds, later cleared off; a hard-cold wind was blowing.  I wanted to go to the woods but had to make the sign.  After I had gotten the cardboard at Lyle’s I went to work and by noon I had the sign drawn, but not colored.

         After dinner I went over to Bill’s; we decided we would go to the woods, but we needed boots.  Jim had a pair which I could use, but Bill had none.  However, we thought Bud would, but when we asked, they couldn’t find any, so we went out to King’s to play cards, which we did all afternoon. Windy was there and as usual acted like a fool.  As we started to leave, King remarked:

     “Well Bill, are you going downtown to-night”

  "I don’t know whether to or not” was his answer.

     “Well” said King “if I go, I’ll come over.”

     “All right”

    “I don’t think I will” I put in, fully intending to “I believe I’ll paint that sign.”

     “What sign?” asked Windy.

     “Oh, one I have to make” I replied airily.  Windy, (I can say this much for him) took the hint.

     After supper I went over to Bill’s and after waiting awhile for King, thinking he would arrive any moment we started to play “500”.  Presently this halled (sic) on us, and as it was getting late, we went on without King.  As we went down High St, we saw several persons we thought was he, but in each case turned out to be some strange fellow; once I was on the point of yelling something crazy at an approaching figure but caught myself in time. We went clear down to Ellsworth but didn’t meet him, so we went first up to Floding’s where I left a prescription (I had the backache) and as we went pastCampbell’s Bookstore, Prudence called after us:

Laughing we went on to the picture shows.  Bill seemed to be in for it, for in the Vaudeville and big ugly looking woman came out for her vaudeville, and suddenly she shouted, pointing in Bill’s direction (altho (sic) I doubt if she could see us): “Hello Bill!” and thruout (sic) her talk she would cry “Bill, you son of a gun, why don’t you speak?”  Bill got red and even doubted that it was a coincident!

Charles E Burchfield, Saturday Jan. 28, 1911