138 ROUND ABOUT CHICAGO 



lately rewarded us. But usually it is some com- 

 mon plant grown to unusual luxuriance great 

 heads of reddest clover, or extra big black-eyed 

 Susans, or a giant jimson weed, covered with a 

 delicate web of wild morning-glory. 



It is the lots in the most aristocratic neighbor- 

 hoods that yield the richest harvests. There are 

 few children there, and those there are are hope- 

 lessly well cared for. That they should spoil their 

 clothes and scratch their skins rummaging in 

 weeds is too dreadful to contemplate. 



The homes are splendid, the grounds spacious 

 and faultlessly kept and pleasing to the eye of the 

 wayfarer, but in midsummer the owners are else- 

 where, and while children are dying of dirt and 

 heat and smells in the Yards two miles back, and 

 in the slums three miles cityward, the gates of 

 these paradises are closed and the lawns untrod 

 save by the foot of the gardener. 



In a morning walk along the shaded avenues 

 you see no soul save a man or two moving the 

 hose on the lawn, a letter carrier on his early 

 rounds, a grocer's clerk calling for his order, or a 

 maid engaged in some kitchen activity at the back 

 door. 



The walk is solitary and beautiful and refresh- 

 ing unless you allow your mind to go deeper, 



