August 8, 1897â€”Tomorrow I go home. Camp Schelsen closes for the winter. After our talent show, at which I juggled and received silent, puzzled response, I walked around aimlessly. In the middle of the camp, where we had spent the summer roasting marshmallows at the bonfire, I saw a giant contraption, intricately assembled, reaching towards the moon. Next to the machine stood a man, beckoning me.
“That’s a curious device. What is it?” I asked.
“You should know what it is,” the man said.
“Yeah. I’m just messing with you. It’s scaffolding. We’re hanging a goodbye banner.”