"Mamma, can't I give a farewell spread for my chums?" "Yes, dear; have them all here on Friday evening. I will get up a nice supper, and Uncle Carroll will show his magic lantern with moving pictures." "Oh, bully for you Ma, dear." "Bully! What did I say about slang, my child?" "Oh, Ma, dear, all the fellows at St. Thomas' use those words, you've got to have something to say when you are pleased, or mad, or surprised--one dear old priest up there says 'Thunder and mud!' when a boy gives a particularly stupid answer at a recitation." "Oh, well, my son, that is just a funny expression. I don't mind your adopting it, since as you say, you must have some 'expressions.'" * * * * * The last evening at home had come. Bo's trunk was packed and the family had assembled in the dining room to have a nice old-fashioned supper. Their boy was going away, but the grand harmony of the evening was not destroyed. Uncle Carroll sang merry songs, Aunt Lucy played on her guitar, Bolax gave his best pieces on the piano, in fact, they had a regular concert. Somehow, Bolax felt that he had never loved his parents as he did now; he thought his mother's face so matronly, yet so gentle, was the sweetest face he ever saw. He bid "good-night" quite bravely, but found it hard to suppress his sobs as he clung to his mother's neck, for our light-hearted boy was tender and loving as a girl. Early next morning the house was astir. Hetty packed a basket of lunch filled with everything she knew the boy liked. Farewells were spoken, the carriage drove up and Mr. Allen accompanied his son to New York, where he placed him on the train bound for Quebec. L'ISLET, P. Q., CANADA, September 15th. _My Dear Papa_: I hope you are well, and that business will soon steer towards prosperity. When you left me in the car, I had to wait about three minutes, then I felt the train start. As it gained speed, we darted through about fifty little tunnels, and between stone walls. When we got into Connecticut, we passed a series of little bays, which I afterwards found out were the inlets of the sound. We made our first stop at Meriden, where a crowd of New England girls got on the train; they wore neat golf suits and carried golf sticks. I thought how nice Cousin Madge would look in such clothes. None of them were pretty, but all were as neat as new pins. All along the railroad was to be seen "ads" of pills, bicycles, soap and sarsaparilla. As we pulled into Hartford, we passed the Pope Manufacturing Company, but it does not resemble the fine pictures they have in their "ads." I only got out of the seat you put me into once, and that was to get a drink. When I got into Springfield, that baggage man was nowhere to be found, neither was the conductor, so I gave the brakeman the cigars you left for them.