32 WOODLAND IDYLS. 



one of whom said to him : * ' No afraid ; me no 

 hurt pappoose." 



I read this afternoon James Lane Allen's 

 "King Solomon of Kentucky." It is a good 

 short story and, in my opinion, much more true 

 to life than either of the ones by Poe and Haw- 

 thorne read on yesterday. 



The first katydid this evening at 7:19. 



Wednesday, August 5. At 3 :50 this morn 

 the patter of rain drops on the roof and the 

 reverberation of thunder in the heavens awak- 

 ened me. Arising and pulling down the flaps 

 of the tent, I awaited the downpour which never 

 came. At 4:30 I arose, breakfasted and soon 

 after started for Indianapolis. After a weary 

 day, three hours of which were spent in smoke 

 begrimed steam cars with cinders of half burned 

 coal flying in at the windows, at 6 P. M. I 

 again reached the old farm house. Five hours 

 were passed in the city where the sun shone 

 down relentlessly upon asphalt and brick pave- 

 ments shut in by tall brick and stone buildings 

 with a hurrying crowd on every side, I among 

 the rest, until I reached my office. There I 

 delved among my accumulated mail, read page 

 proof on my annual report and answered the 

 questions of numerous callers until my train 

 was ready to take me back back to my tent be- 

 neath the stars where the only sound is a sere- 



