Abbie B., age 23, Illinois

Olive P. O. Ill. Here I am at last. The bus left for Danville at 6 a. m. Monday just two weeks from the time I had expected to leave. We had only gone a few miles when it began to rain and blow. I could hardly hold the umberela. I had to use it, as the bus had no top.

The Vermillion was still high, the water going over the hubs when we crossed. There were only three passengers, I was sur­prised to hear one of them discuss Greek mythology with the driver. Spent the night in D—and next morning went as far as Toulon, where I changed cars to the Ill. Central and waited three hours for the south bound train. From Toulon to Oden is a grand prairie, the most extensive I have seen. When night came we could see away to the East a prairie fire. Beached Oden at eight, and spent the night there. Next morning took an east train, and reached Bridgeport after twelve p. m.

The cousins had been in twice to meet me, not knowing about the high water—they had decided I was not coming.

A friend of theirs—who knew of my coming, secured passage for me with a man who was going on past their home. He was an elderly man, and very talkative, so by asking a few questions, I learned much of the country and the people who live there.

The cousins thought I had given up coming, and were surprised to see me. They have two children, and we have already become good friends.

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