THE SORT OF LIFE WE LEAD. 29 



the crowd as if it were midwinter. Brought 

 back a bushel of oysters in defiance of the law, 

 which is not yet up. Opened some of them 

 before dinner, and packed the rest in the cellar. 

 For dinner we had the sixth unfortunate chicken 

 of our devoted little band. Cold enough for a 

 fire ; we had the first blaze of the autumn, the 

 great bunches of ferns and moss-covered twigs 

 which have filled the fireplace all summer 

 going first with a crackling roar. Read the 

 last of Kennan's articles on Siberia from the 

 Century and some of the " open letters." 

 Pretty well tired out ; between the effects of 

 the fire and the oystering began to nod over 

 our books by the time the clock struck ten. 



Thursday. Went over more than half of the 

 garden between breakfast and ten o'clock, 

 giving the last hoeing that will be needed this 

 year. Notwithstanding Monday's rain, the 

 weeds already show a disposition to stay in the 

 ground, and it is evident that all vegetation 

 has lost heart. Got through the task at ten 

 o'clock, and as weeding is what I like least 

 about gardening, there is much comfort in find- 

 ing that there is such a thing as getting ahead of 

 the weeds if you keep up the battle persistently 

 enough. Wrote from ten to lunch time. After 

 luncheon went with A. and the children over 

 to the beach, sailing our three miles across the 

 bay with a free wind in less than half an hour. 

 One would scarcely believe that in three weeks 



