"Not exactly like ours, my boy, there are no two cherries on the tree just alike, still like folks they are all similar. Eternity is the abode of millions of worlds—see, there, our party are climbing the next hill; no more monologues here, we must overtake them."
From Gray's Lake, when our party of eleven had dwindled to five, Arthur, Hauter and Highland pegged steadily on, while Mary and I lagged to enjoy the beautiful northern hilly country.
We really did enjoy our lark, as Mary called it. She observed every interesting thing. Listened to the barking of the squirrels, songs of the birds and strayed into the woods for pretty autumn leaves and berries until her arms were full.
Our daughter Vida, at Carroll College, who knew of our contemplated walk, telephoned to Chicago and on learning we had actually started took the train to Antioch and came down the road to surprise us.
We were loafing along when our Weiders (Vida), whom we had not seen in eight weeks, sprang from a concealment and grabbed us.
Surely I would not have been much more surprised if one of the fair sex from the planet Mars had accosted us.
After the shower of kisses Mary and I forgot our sore toes, and, with her, hurried on, visiting all the way until we neared our destination, when in the woods, a flood of red bitter-sweet berries attracted their attention and, in spite of all I could do or say, they left the road and began browsing again.
Vida's animation reached serene heights, when from a perch on a fallen tree she cried, "Oh, Papa, see how I can climb. Come up here and see the rippling wave of old Fox Lake dance in the blushing rays of the evening sun. Oh, isn't it a pity that girls cannot fly."
When we arrived at the home of my brother, G. M. Richardson, we found Arthur, Hauter and Highland, with many friends, awaiting us, all pleased to learn that the Richardsons were far from being played out.
After dinner, and Amanda (my brother's wife) had taken Mary and me to the kitchen and exhibited their 24-pound turkey for dinner next day, we gathered in the big living room, when even those who were tired were able to tease and tell stories which had the semblance of truth.