said that the life of the hotels and the drift of excursionists,
great as they appear, are falling into the background, while the
popularity of cottage life is rapidly on the increase. This plan is much
more economical than boarding at the highest-price hotels, although
those who have ample means find a summer spent at either the houses of
Russell & Sturgis, or at the hostelry of Damon & Sons, most eminently
satisfactory in every respect. New cottages spring up like mushrooms
every year from one end of the beach to the other, and they represent
every style of architecture, although Queen Anne is held responsible for
the most frequent style as yet. But in size, coloring, and expense the
cottages vary as widely as the tastes and wealth of their several
owners. "There are big houses and little; houses like the Chinese
pagodas in old Canton blue-ware; houses like castles, with towers and
battlements; houses like nests, and houses like barracks; houses with
seven gables, and houses with none at all."

During the heavy easterly gales of winter seaweed and kelp are washed
ashore in great quantities. This is carted off by the farmers, who find
it valuable as a fertilizer, and they are indebted to the sea for
thousands of dollars' worth of this product every year. Nantasket in
winter presents a gloomy contrast to its life and gayety in the summer.
The winds are cold and fierce. The pretty cottages are deserted, and the
sea moans with a sound betokening peril to the craft that ventures to
tempt the waves. The nearly buried timbers of old vessels that are seen
in the sands are relics of disaster in years gone by.

But in the summer months, Nantasket must ever remain a sea-side paradise
to those who know its attractions.

* * * * *

IDLENESS.

By Sidney Harrison.

A flutter 'mid the branches, and my heart
Leaps with the life in that full chirp that breathes;
The brown, full-breasted sparrow with a dart
Is at my feet amid the swaying wreaths
Of grass and clover; trooping blackbirds come
With haughty step; the oriole, wren and jay
Revel amid the cool, green moss in play,
Then off in clouds of music; while the drum
Of scarlet-crested woodpecker from yon
Old Druid-haunting oak sends toppling down
A ruined memory of ages past;
O life and death--how blended to the last!

* * * * *

THE GRIMKE SISTERS.

THE FIRST