friends were eternal; no one expected to see them
again, and my small brain grew dizzy as I tried to
imagine a place so remote as their destination. It
was, I finally decided, at the uttermost ends of the
earth, and it seemed quite possible that the brave
adventurers who reached it might then drop off into
space. Fifty years later I was talking to a Cali-
fornia girl who complained lightly of the monotony
of a climate where the sun shone and the flowers
bloomed all the year around. ``But I had a de-
lightful change last year,'' she added, with anima-
tion. ``I went East for the winter.''

``To New York?'' I asked.

``No,'' corrected the California girl, easily, ``to
Lawrence, Kansas.''

Nothing, I think, has ever made me feel quite so
old as that remark. That in my life, not yet, to me
at least, a long one, I should see such an arc de-
scribed seemed actually oppressive until I realized
that, after all, the arc was merely a rainbow of time
showing how gloriously realized were the hopes of
the Lawrence pioneers.

The move to Michigan meant a complete up-
heaval in our lives. In Lawrence we had around us
the fine flower of New England civilization. We
children went to school; our parents, though they