$0 ROUND ABOUT CHICAGO 



foot boys are working in the fields, and meadow- 

 larks are singing all day, and they look for nests 

 in the tangled bushes in the fence corners, just to 

 see, never to disturb, the tiny eggs or the funny 

 feathered mouths that occupy them. 



And I lie in the sweet summer wind and con- 

 tinue my dreaming about the child-gardens that 

 have made my life. They have been many and of 

 many kinds, and some are indelibly fixed in my 

 memory. Lately one from a far-past garden 

 asked to come again, and as we walked together 

 along the woods-road facing the sunset glow, 

 there came over his face a radiance softer and 

 brighter than that of the sun, as he sweetly and 

 ardently told me how he had seen the Grail afar 

 off and must go to find it. He has gone now, 

 to carry his message of light to those that dwell 

 in darkness on the other side of the world; to 

 scatter much seed that one grain may sprout and 

 flourish to bear fruit in long ages to come. It is 

 an uncertain and far-off hope, but if you could 

 have seen Walter's face that day, you would know 

 that it is worth while. 



The children of my gardens are scattered the 

 wide world over, blown like the down of my own 

 thistle field. There is no continent that does 

 not hold them. 



