ng his adventures since his
departure from Chappaqua, we found especially so. Before making some
extracts from it, I must explain that he left us to join a number of
young men from Chappaqua, headed by our neighbor, Mr. Carpenter, who
were to camp out at Rye Beach, and indulge in unlimited fishing
parties. This out-of-doors life delighted Arthur, accustomed as he had
been to foot journeys in Europe, and when the party broke up he bought
a waterproof suit, hired a boat and a tent, and rowed up the Sound to
Boston, where he lives, sleeping meantime on land or in his boat, as
best suited his caprice. I will now give his exploits in his own words.

"I remained on the beach some time after Mr. Carpenter and the others
left, caught and made food of many fishes, and came near making myself
food for them, for in hauling up anchor in a rough sea I tipped out of
the boat, but luckily saved myself by clutching its side, and lifting
myself in at imminent risk of turning the whole concern bottom upwards.

"Being wrapped in slumber on the rocks one night with a big fire
burning beside me, my bed of dry seaweed caught fire, and woke me by
its fierce breath; but escaping an evil fate for the present, I came
safely home to Boston, which I felt keen joy to see once more.

"I have gone into the office of a lawyer here, and am engaged in the
delightful occupation of 'sooing folks' (as the old fellow pronounces
it). You may imagine me seated on the extreme top of a high stool,
forging like a young Cyclops with malignant pleasure, the writs and
summonses which are presently to be flourished by the Sheriff in the
face of the astonished Defendant."

Among our other letters this morning was a package from London
containing the dainty wedding-cards of a beautiful young American
pianist (Teresa Carreno) and her handsome violinist husband,
accompanied by a long letter from the bride. The letter was
overflowing with happiness, and the naivete with which she described
all the little annoyances of her new married life, and especially the
trials of a young housekeeper, was quite delicious. Her furniture had
not yet come from Paris, and there were but two chairs in the parlor;
consequently, when a visitor came, her husband was obliged to stand,
she said, with the greatest ceremony. She sat by the kitchen table to
write to me, and the cook overturned her ink, making a blot upon the
page: all of these little details made up a perfect picture of