hey'd been washed out
and hung up to dry. Besides, I didn't understand what all the little
angels were kicking at. Father said they were from the old masters, and
there was a lady with a pink parasol, that screamed right out, and said
they were sweet pretty. I suppose when I'm grown up I shall have to
think so too. I saw a picture of a little boy out in the woods, asleep,
that I liked ever so much better.

"We've seen ever so many other things, but I haven't half time to tell
you about them all.

"We're at the Brevoort House, and I tell you I was frightened when I
first came in, it's so handsome. We take our rooms, and then just go
down into the most splendid dining-hall, and sit down at little tables
and order what we want, and don't pay for anything but that. Father says
it's the European plan. Our rooms are beautiful. Don't you tell anybody,
but I'm almost afraid of the waiters and chambermaids; they look as if
they felt so grand. But Joy, she just rings the bell and makes them
bring her up some water, and orders them around like anything. Joy
wanted to go to the Fifth Avenue Hotel, but father said it was too
noisy. He says this is noisy enough, but he wanted us to see what a
handsome hotel is like, and--and--why! I'm almost asleep.

JOY'S JOURNAL.

"Philadelphia, Wednesday, June 18.

"We came to Philadelphia this morning, and we almost choked with the
dust, riding through New Jersey. We're at a boarding-house,--a new one
just opened. They call it the Markoe House. (I haven't the least idea
whether I've spelled it right.) Uncle didn't sleep very well last night,
so he wanted a quiet place, and thought the hotels were noisy. He
thought once of going to La Pierre, but gave it up. Father used to go to
the Continental, I know, because I've heard him say so. I'm too tired to
write any more."

GYPSY'S JOURNAL.

"Thursday, June something or other.

"We stayed over a day here,--oh, 'here' is Philadelphia,--because
father wanted us to see the city. It's real funny. People have white
wooden shutters outside their windows, and when anybody dies they keep a
black ribbon hanging out on them. Then the streets are so broad. I saw
four Quakers this morning. We've been out to see Girard College, where
they take care of orphans, and the man that built it, Mr. Stephen
Girard, he wouldn't ever let any minister step inside it. Wasn't it
funny in him?

"Then we went over to Fairmount, besides. Fairmount is where they bring
up