Willing feet ran to the rustic arbor, and willing hands brought the baskets from the rustic table. They seated themselves on the grass and ate the biscuits and sardines and sandwiches, and the gingerbread and cake. A little girl whom they did not know was playing near her father and mother, who were seated on a bench at a little distance. One of the children, with thoughtful kindness, asked her mother’s permission to take some biscuits and cake to the little stranger, and joyfully she ran off to offer of their abundance to the little one. After they had done full justice to the contents of the baskets, and picked up pebbles on the beach, they sat in the large summer house and sang hymns, sweet familiar hymns, sung by sweet childish voices, sobering and sanctifying the pleasures of that happy Saturday afternoon. At the station they found a merry party of school-girls who had walked out in the morning to gather flowers on the prairie. They were in high glee; their large straw hats were wreathed with oak leaves, and their hands were filled with great bunches of flowers, “The golden and the flame-like flower.” Norman said good-by to Emily Percy at her door, for he and his mother were to spend the Sabbath with Mrs. Bowers, and a pleasant Sabbath it was. The conversation, in harmony with the day, on the piazza, after breakfast, beneath the shade of lofty spreading trees; the sermons and services of morning, afternoon, and evening, different in tone and character, but all profitable and pleasing; the visit to the large and interesting Sunday school, in which Mrs. Bowers taught a class, made the Sabbath a delightful one. Monday morning Mrs. Percy took Mrs. Lester and Norman and Emily to her husband’s grain warehouse, the top of which they reached after ascending many flights of steps. The roof is of canvas, covered with tar, upon which, while it is warm, pebbles are thrown, making a durable and fire proof roof. The city lay beneath them; they could mark its great extent, trace the course of its dividing rivers, with their sails, and steamers, and propellers; see trains of cars arriving and departing; count the spires which “With silent fingers point to heaven,” and around all see the great lake and the encircling prairie. The warehouse was filled with dust, as the machinery was in motion. Norman watched the elevators lifting up the grain from the rail-car on one side to the fifth story of the warehouse, where it is weighed and poured into great bins, whence it is discharged into vessels on the other side. The elevator is a series of buckets on an endless band. Thousands of bushels, from the wide prairies of Illinois, are thus elevated, weighed, and transferred from car to boat, to be sent to the Eastern states or to Europe.