A JOURNEY TO NATURE 



says au revoir. It s hurrah, boys, and good-by. 

 Now you have the same picnic every year, do 

 you not, and the same jelly-cake ? 



Griselle had a delicious, spontaneous laugh. 

 I know a soubrette who would give a hundred 

 dollars a link for it. 



&quot; Some day,&quot; I said, &quot; I should like to have 

 Gabe bring you to the city when I am there, and 

 I ll show you the kind of picnics we have. I ll 

 take you to Coney Island. You never were in 

 the city, were you ? : 



&quot; Oh, yes. When I was studying music, 

 Cousin Ed Yerkes took me with his sister to 

 hear the music in The Old Homestead. 



&quot;Music in The Old Homestead ?&quot; I said 

 inquiringly. &quot; What music ? &quot; 



&quot;Why, they sung The Old Oaken Bucket 

 in it beautifully.&quot; 



&quot;So they did, so they did,&quot; I said pathetically, 

 and stopped to wonder how a girl could leave the 

 real oaken bucket at her door, and go a hundred 

 miles to enjoy a property bucket. Still, this 

 knowledge made me feel that she was human like 

 myself. &quot; How you would enjoy the wooden 

 milch cow and the painted dairy-maid from Mul 

 berry Street at Coney Island, after you had 

 milked your real cows.&quot; 



Like all my kind, I felt a protective and pro 

 prietary interest in such innocence. I suppose 

 Griselle intended that I should. The upshot of 

 it was that Charlie and I toddled to her picnic, 

 and I was her willing slave for one day. In try- 



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