ntended to be eaten as soon as
baked, was not, I must own, improved by standing so long; but otherwise
no serious damage was done to the dinner, and we were thankful that our
adventures when indulging in pleasure parties on Sunday were over.

The evening passed quietly, but very agreeably. Mr. Reid went down to
the city in the six o'clock train, and papa read aloud to us Byron's
splendid, stirring "Isles of Greece," and portions of "Childe Harold."
Reading poetry is quite an accomplishment of papa's, and although he is
very happy in sentimental and heroic verse, he has also a keen sense of
humor, and his reading of comic and dialect poems, especially those of
Hans Breitmann, have been much complimented; indeed, in "our circle" he
is the reader par excellence of Bret Harte, John Hay, and Hans Breitmann.

_August 7_.

Marguerite and Ida went down yesterday to the city for a day's shopping,
a relaxation of which we are all quite fond. I walked down to the
station to meet them upon their return, and was not a little surprised to
see a third black-robed figure emerge from the cars with them. Too
_petite_ to be Gabrielle, who has been visiting a school-friend for the
last week, it was not until the second glance that I recognized the
abundant golden-brown hair and romantic eyes of our pretty cousin,
Theresa Walling.

Theresa is Aunt Arminda's granddaughter, and although only eighteen, is
entitled to pass through a door in advance of Marguerite, Ida and I, and
to occupy the back seat in a carriage, for she is married, and has had
two sweet little girls, one of whom died during that sad month of
November, last year, and the oldest, her pretty Theresa Beatrice, only a
week ago. Quite delicate from her childhood, the loss of her babies has
been a great affliction to their poor little mother, and Ida brought her
out to visit us, hoping that change of scene might bring back the former
rose-flush to her pale cheeks.

Early marriages appear hereditary in that branch of the family, for Aunt
Arminda was married at fifteen, and Theresa's mother at fourteen;
consequently, Aunt Arminda found herself a great-grandmother when some
years short of sixty.

I said that Theresa lost her youngest child within the thirty days that
elapsed between uncle's and Aunt Mary's deaths; but those were not the
only bereavements in our family that sad winter; before the spring came,
Theresa's father and a little girl, our cousin Victoria's child,