the face of the narrator is less joyous as he turns from then to now,—­“things are not what they were.  Our island is becoming like what they tell me the world at large is.”  And the old man will re-light his pipe, and with a sad smile he will give you the names of his ancestors, from his great “Grand-’ther” down to more modern times, when his fifth cousin Obed was a large ship-owner.  Ah! treat such of other days with kindness, for the style of that day will never come again; their great hearts of brotherly love are not of this generation, yet they have left an impress upon those well-loved shores that can never be entirely erased.  Those foot-prints of long ago, combined with the peculiarities which will ever dwell with these children of the sea, are attractions which insure to the stranger on his first visit, visions of many a happy hour in the future; and he will long for the season to return which shall liberate so many of the city doomed artificials to a few weeks’ intercourse with nature.

Awakened at early dawn by the sailor’s merry “yo, ho,” coming up from the waters with the sun, you turn your eyes seaward, and what a glorious sight is before you!  As far as the eye can reach, water, blue, rolling water, tinged with rising sunlight in its morning purity; the night-bird folds her wings, which she has laved in the white sea-foam, softening the sigh of the breakers to the ear of those who slumbered; the white sails bow their heads, while the old tars wonder what makes them so happy.  With these pleasant sunrise impressions you go forth into the day with more lenient views towards the “land of whales,” sniffing the salt air with a real gusto.

Glancing up the street, you descry an object in the distance which much resembles a travelling dry-goods merchant, with the many fancy streamers flying in the breeze; but as it draws nearer, you look around in astonishment for “Barnum,” fully persuaded if that worthy is not on the ground, he has mistaken his calling for once.  The object in question is no less than a common two-wheeled horse-cart, such as are used to do our heavy carting, except this is on springs, and of a lighter build; in the vehicle are some half dozen ladies, standing, their only support being short ropes attached to the sides, which, however, are seldom used, except by those unaccustomed to this kind of exercise, and in this position they ride with the greatest ease, seldom losing their balance, even when going at full speed.

Thoroughly initiated, and having seen most of the lions of the place, you find yourself becoming more and more attached, forget that you have ever thought of the island as anything but attractive.  Your one week has become the length of four, and the letters to anxious friends at home have been characteristic of briefness, unwilling to steal a moment’s time from the enjoyment which will furnish a topic for the unemployed hours of longer days to come.  Of the many excursions which have made short the hours