124 ROUND ABOUT CHICAGO 



The Italian infant looks at us all in hopeless 

 wonder. This too, is beyond his experience. 

 The lad is a fool! He himself is wiser, and he 

 takes largess for returning the glass, with 

 open hand and heart. 



I should like to know the long boy when he 

 has grown up. Think of wilfully giving up two 

 ice cream sodas on a warm day! 



Again the great engine is in motion, along 

 the lake drive, up East End avenue, past 

 our gayest of hotels and into beautiful Drexel 

 boulevard, a narrow mile and a half of park, 

 set bountifully with shrubbery. Here and 

 there are clearings for flower beds, but one 

 easily and thankfully forgets them in the enjoy- 

 ment of the memory of the thickets of great 

 old lilacs and syringas that make the boulevard 

 glorious. 



If you have ridden your bicycle close up along 

 the park edge some warm evening in lilac time, 

 with the fragrance enveloping you like a cloud, 

 and the bushes gleaming like great bouquets 

 among the dancing black leaf shadows that the 

 arc lights conjure, or if you have walked on a 

 balmy moonlight night along the gravel paths 

 close under the laden branches to let the great 

 blossom clusters brush your cheeks as you pass, 



