er, and now I found out a
funny thing about Long Branch that I hadn't noticed the evening before.
"Why," said I, "is it possible I am in the country? Where are the
trees?" They were nowhere to be seen, not so much as a bush; while the
flowers were represented by everybody's bathing dresses hanging over
all the fences, and on ever so many clothes-lines besides, to dry. The
fact is, that the Atlantic Ocean is determined to let nothing be admired
but itself; so it will not permit a tree to grow any nearer its shores
than half a mile. So all the foliage there consists of the direful old
bathing dresses, flapping in the wind and looking like so many
scarecrows put up to frighten off the fishhawks.

In the morning we went to the cunning little Episcopal church, and
listened to the earnest teachings of the noble young rector, who is
working so bravely in his Master's cause with such poor earthly reward.
That he is laying up treasure where "neither moth nor rust doth
corrupt," we cannot but believe. We did not like to leave the quiet
little church for the great noisy hotels, in one of which, as we passed
it, they were _playing billiards_. Oh! what an occupation for God's holy
day! I cannot believe they were Christians who were playing, but I know
I wanted to go and beg them to stop.

In the afternoon it clouded up, and began to rain very hard; so we could
not go to church, and as it was very little like Sunday in the crowded
hall and parlor, Mrs. Lawson proposed we should all come and sit in her
room, which opened on one of the upper piazzas. So we established
ourselves here, where it was quiet and cool, very glad to escape from
the bustle down stairs.

"Suppose you were to repeat that pretty German hymn I gave you the other
day," said her mother to Nelly. "Perhaps Mr. Oldbird would like to hear
it."

"Yes, that I should," I said; so Nelly began the beautiful verses
called--

"ALL THERE."

"Nothing is lost; the treasures which the ocean
Hath taken to itself in ages fled,
The lives that rest beneath its ceaseless motion
Until 'the sea shall render up its dead:'

"The dew drops that the warm bright sunshine drieth,
The cloud that melts away in summer air,
The bud that lifteth its sweet head--and dieth,
They are not lost--God keeps them in his care.

"Nothing is lost; the anguish of the mourner,
And bit