d of a bright world vanished, a landscape so beautiful that it hurt
to have some parts of it revealed to aliens--and yet he was glad of it
and talked of it to his comrades.

Zulime made a birthday cake for him and the children decorated it, and
when Mary Isabel brought it in with all its candles lighted, and we
lifted our triumphant song, he was overwhelmed with happiness and pride.

"I never had a birthday cake or a birthday celebration before in all my
life," he said, and we hardly knew whether to laugh or to cry at that
confession.

We ended the day by singing for him--that was the best of it all; for
both the children could now join with me in voicing the tunes which he
loved. They knew his enthusiasms and were already faithful heirs of his
traditions. Singers of the future, they loved to hear him recount the
past.

All through the month of September as we walked our peaceful way in
Wisconsin the Germans were pounding at the gates of Paris. It comforts
me at this moment to recall how peaceful my father was. He heard of the
war only as of a far-off storm. He had us all, all but Franklin, and
there was no bitterness in his voice as he spoke of his increasing
uselessness. "I'm only a passenger now," he said. "I've finished my
work."

As the Interstate Fair came on, he quietly engaged a neighbor to take us
all down to La Crosse in an automobile. "This is my treat," he said, and
knowing how much it meant to him I gladly accepted. With a fine sense of
being up-to-date he reverted to the early days as we went whirling down
the turnpike, and told tales of hauling hay and grain over these long
hills. He pointed out the trail and spoke of its mud and sand. "It took
us six hours then. Now, see, it's just like a city street."

He was greatly pleased to find an aeroplane flying above the grounds as
we drew near. "They say the Germans are making use of these machines for
scouting--and they are building others to fight with. I can't understand
how they make a ton of iron fly."

Once inside the gates we let him play the host. He bought candy for the
children, paid for our dinners at the restaurant and took us to the
side-shows. It wearied him, however, and about three o'clock he said
"Let's go home by way of Onalaska. I want to visit the cemetery and see
if Father's lot is properly cared for." It seemed a rather melancholy
finish to our day, but I agreed and as we were crossing the sandy
stretch of road over which I limped