10 



time and relive in memory a beautiful past, though those 

 beings who would reinliabit with her her dreamland would 

 come back from places where mossy marbles rest with carv- 

 ings of names she loved. 



Two paintings, by Miss Hattie W. Peterson, were well 

 worthy of close study. It was not their insulation that 

 enhanced them : among many, in the salon of art, the siibject 

 of the girl spinning flax would have attracted attention. It 

 bore no descriptive label but had these lines of Longfellow : 



Then, as he opened tlie door, he beheld the form of the maiden 

 Seated beside lier wheel, and the carded 'wool like a snow drift 

 Piled at her knee, her white hands feeding the ravenous spindle. 

 While with her foot on the treadle she .a:uided the wheel in its motion, — 



been appended, it would have been a fine exponent of Priscilla, 



The Pnritan maiden, of " the Colonj- days in 

 Plymontli, the land of the Pilgrims." 



A most singular natural curiosity was brought up from the 

 sea on the opening morning of our Fair. It was a piece of 

 rope completely encrusted with minute shells, rendering the 

 rope invisible. Can it be old Neptune sent his contribution ? 

 or did he, as he rode in majesty over the tangled sea-weeds of 

 our bay, attended by the nereids, meet with a disaster on Brant 

 Rock and lose a portion of his bridle-rein ? or do millions of 

 these little shell-fish live in servitude and pull his triumphal 

 car ? or were they ambassadors sent from his realm ? Curt 

 reception had they then, for they lanquished and died, nor did 

 we heed their faint murmurs. They were to us a song of the 

 sea, nothing more — like Beethoven's songs without words, 

 that have melodies divine but speak no Liuguage save that of 

 sweet sounds. 



And now adieu, fair patrons, till once more " in the mild 

 September " we again come face to face. The frosts herald the 



