674 



TARRY7 0WN LETTERS. 



over-hauling of books, ancient and modern, and 

 they were always whittling something while they 

 talked. Whether in their snuggery at night, where 

 they had the shaving horse and rived timber, or 

 whether out of doors somewhere, they always made 

 something by their labor or play. Look at those 

 handles for all sorts of pur- 

 poses left behind them in 

 proof of this. Nearly every 

 fence-post and top-rail 

 around the garden that was 

 fit to whittle shows the 

 marks of their jack-knives. 

 You wouldn't think Uncle 

 Sam was a sculptor, but 

 look at the pair of woman's 

 legs, modestly crossed, cut 

 as natural as life in the 

 top of those bar-posts, and 

 judge for yourself. They are 

 wonderful specimens of me- 

 diaeval art. And if any State 

 Pomologist will explain why 

 'Brother Jonathan — i n t h i s 

 scarce year for apple s — 

 should lodge a neat cider-tap 

 in so many of those post- 

 holes, I should like to have 

 him ! 



The date of the show was 

 first talked of for the first 

 goodness of the moon in 

 September, but for the sake 

 of displaying the weird 

 effects of artificial lights on 

 the fine fabrics of the grass 

 garden in the early evening, 

 it was judged best to have 

 the moon rise on them a little 

 later. By this time the As- 

 sociated Press had hold of 

 the affair and was working 

 its wires out of love to 

 "grass," or news, and ready 

 to move at a wink from 

 either Mrs. Tarryer or Lady 

 Schnipticket. The show 

 must be at its best, whatever 

 the convenience of the public might be. 

 could take its chances. 



As the time drew near, M'Tavish was in his glory. 

 He is a great manager (with a woman to tell him 

 what to do). I'll say that for him ! There were 

 horses and carriages to buy or hire, and teams to 



match and train for the procession ; gangs of car- 

 penters and decorators to engage and control. A 

 company of electric and other fire-workers were to 

 arrive by the last train. Mrs. Tarryer and Lady 

 Schnipticket both declared they wouldn't have the 

 fire-skeletons and scaffolding around by daylight. 



One of Mrs. Tarryer's Girls with a Weeding Thimble 



That 



and some said there was a regiment of trained 

 balloon builders camped in the woods near-by for a 

 week. By an ingenious arrangement of wires, an 

 electric sun was suspended directly over the center 

 of the grass garden. All things were done, as we 

 read of, without the stroke of a hammer, and Mrs. 



