of
water?" "You bet!" "We're on the Lincoln Highway, are we not?" "You
bet!" These somewhat startling responses simply indicated a most
cheerful spirit and a hearty readiness to do you any favor possible.

Leaving Carroll, we come on through Ames, Jefferson, Marshalltown, and
Belle Plain, into Cedar Rapids. Out from Carroll we have rather bumpy
roads for some time. Then the road improves and is excellent from Ames
on until we near Cedar Rapids. But all along work is being done on the
roads and their improvement is a matter of great local interest. We
pass a point in Marshall County where they are working with a new
machine for cutting down the road. I call it a dirt-eating machine. The
commissioner is extremely proud of it, and calls our attention to the
immense amount of work it can do, and to the huge mouthfuls of earth
which it bites out from the bank, through which the wider road is to
run. We are charmed with the lovely country around Marshalltown, and
with the very beautiful country between Belle Plain and Cedar Rapids. We
drive through the campus and past the buildings of the State
Agricultural College at Ames as we come into the town.

We are passing beautiful farms. Here we see a group of splendid dappled
grey Percheron draught horses, the pride of a stock-farm. There we pass
reddish-yellow shocks of oats. The country is more wooded now. We see
maples, oaks, ash, willows, and black walnuts. Here and there are yellow
wild flowers, somewhat like black-eyed Susans. One thing we remark in
all these Middle Western farms. There seem to be almost no flowers
around the farm houses. An English farmhouse or a French farmhouse would
have a riot of flowers growing all about and making a mass of color. We
miss this in our Western farms and wonder why it is that we see so
little color. We see practically no orchards, and very few grape-vines.
This is the country of wheat and oats. We have left the orchards and the
vineyards far behind us in lovely California.

Cedar Rapids is a busy city with several hotels. Leaving the city on the
morning of July 21st, we drive first through quite heavily wooded
country. Then the view opens out and we are once more driving over
beautiful, undulating country with rich crops of oats and corn. The
perfume of the corn, standing tall and green, is delicious. When we pass
through Mt. Vernon, we take a look at the buildings of Wesleyan College,
which stands on a high ridge commanding a fine view