st summer. If you
like, I will read it to you while you work on that interminable afghan.
By the way, Aunt Sarah, I do not think you have labored quite so
energetically since the late decision made by the Metropolitan Fair in
regard to raffling. How is that?

MRS. GRUNDY. My dear, I must acknowledge that my ardor is a
little lessened since I began this piece of work, for then I had not
only a vision of the poor soldiers to be aided by my labor, but I also
fancied that this warm wrapping, instead of adding a new lustre to the
carriage of some luxurious lady, might perchance fall to the share of
some poor widow; and these beautiful embroidered leaves and blossoms
might delight some sickly child, whose best covering had hitherto been a
faded blanket shawl, and whose mother was too poor to afford the
indulgence of real flowers, purchased from some collection of exotics,
or plucked by the pale fingers from some fragrant country wayside.
However, I know that was an idle fancy, and the imagination is a
dangerous guide. I surely would never call in question the soundness of
a decision made by so many excellent and respectable people. Read on, if
you please. You know me to be a patient listener.

LUCY D----. Yes, dear aunt, and I know, too, that charity--that
crown of virtues--can warm and expand the primmest conventionality, and
lend bright wings of beauty to the most commonplace conception. The same
Divine Love that fringes dusty highways with delicate, fragrant
blossoms, can cause even the arid soil of worldliness to teem with
lovely growths and refreshing fruits. But, a truce to this digression,
to which, as I foresaw, you give no heed; and now to my notes:

One cool, sunshiny morning in August, a lady traveller, bent for once on
gratifying the whim of seeing what lay beyond the blue hills in the far
distance, left the Laurel House (Catskill Mountains), and took her way
toward Tannersville. Two ladies, charming companions, accompanied her as
far as the bridge over the mill stream, where she struck into a
neglected byway, leading past a melancholy graveyard. The air was
delicious, the mountains were clear, but softened by a dreamy haze; each
cottage garden was bright with phlox, bergamot, mallows, and
nasturtiums, and the soul of the traveller was filled with gratitude
that this earth had been made so beautiful, and she had been given
health, strength, opportunity, and a stout heart to enjoy it.

Tannersville reached, an