at day, so the train made a short stop.
Phoebe smiled as the train started, leaned forward and waved till the
familiar group was lost to her view, then she settled herself with a
brave little smile and looked at the well-known fields and meadows she
was passing. The trees on Cemetery Hill were silhouetted against the
blue sky just as she had seen them many times in her walks about the
country.

But soon the old landmarks disappeared and unknown fields lay about her.
Crude rail fences divided acres of rustling corn from orchards whose
trees were laden with red apples or downy peaches. Occasionally flocks
of startled birds rose from fields freshly plowed for the fall sowing of
wheat. Huge red barns and spacious open tobacco sheds, hung with drying
tobacco, gave evidence of the prosperity of the farmers of that section.
Little schoolhouses were dotted here and there along the road. Flowers
bloomed by the wayside and in them Phoebe was especially interested.
Goldenrod in such great profusion that it seemed the very sunshine of
the skies was imprisoned in flower form, stag-horn sumac with its
grape-like clusters of red adding brilliancy to the landscape--everywhere
was manifest the dawn of autumnal glory, the splendor that foreruns decay,
the beauty that is but the first step in nature's transition from blossom
and harvest to mystery and sleep.

Every two or three miles the train stopped at little stations and then
Phoebe leaned from her window to see the beautiful stretches of country.

At one flag station the train was signalled and came to a stop. Just
outside Phoebe's window stood a tall farmer. He rubbed his fingers
through his hair and stared curiously at the train.

"Step lively," shouted the trainman.

But the farmer shook his head. "Ach, I don't want on your train! I
expected some folks from Lititz and thought they'd be on this here
train. Didn't none get on----"

But the angry trainman had heard enough. He pulled the cord and the
train started, leaving the old man alone, his eyes scanning the moving
cars.

Phoebe laughed. "We Pennsylvania Dutch do funny things! I wonder if I'll
seem strange and foolish to the people I shall meet in the great city."

At Reading she obeyed Aunt Maria's injunction and boarded the proper
train. The ride along the winding Schuylkill was thoroughly enjoyed by
the country girl, but the picture changed when the country was left
behind, suburban Philadelphia passed, and the train e