1 96 ROUND ABOUT CHICAGO 



with a farm and an apple orchard on one side 

 and tangled natural woods on the other. 



Sitting by the farm fence in the shade of the 

 apple trees we eat our luncheon and are indescrib- 

 ably refreshed. A busy red-headed wood-pecker is 

 spiraling around the trunk of a gnarled oak tree in 

 the woods across the road. Two squawking blue 

 jays are quarrelling in another tree close by; 

 and the farmer's dog is sniffing uneasily through 

 the fence. 



We walk on to the north and east through 

 woods and fields and out on the main trolley 

 line, and we make us a brown bouquet 

 as we go, with rose-brown docks and yellow- 

 brown grasses. 



For the red-bronze oak branches that we shall 

 hang in the dining room, and arrange in our 

 copper bowls for Thanksgiving time, we pay a 

 last visit to Palos Park on a mellow hazy after- 

 noon, bringing back arm loads of branches and 

 heart loads of thanksgiving that it has been given 

 to us to know and love God's country, and that 

 we have the health and strength to gain more 

 health and strength as each summer season adds 

 to our soul's stature. 



