A Farewell "Hike 



able that do not spend their summers 

 here. I do not profess to know their 

 names. They are from the north and 

 tomorrow will be farther south. The 

 annual migration is at its height, and 

 we ourselves are joining in it. Those 

 fat bronze turkeys foraging contentedly 

 among the corn shocks would migrate 

 too if they were wise. 



I took back with me at the close of 

 this really perfect day the last of our 

 dark-blue larkspurs, decorated with a 

 lacy spray of woodbine, the five- 

 leaved clusters of which were almost as 

 brilliant as Poinsettias at Christmas 

 time. And that was the last floral 

 offering I was able to bring this year 

 to the household gods. 



The darkness settles early, and as the 

 night is cloudless I improve the op- 

 portunity, before settling down to a 

 final session with the fire, to bid the 

 bright October sky good-bye. I know 

 perfectly well that when we begin 

 driving up and down the city boule- 

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