Schuur,” the ancient granary of the first settlers, which is now turned into a roomy, comfortable country-house, perfect as a summer residence, and securely sheltered from the “sou’-easters.”  We approach it through a double avenue of tall Italian pines, and after a little while go out once more for a ramble up some quaint old brick steps, and so through a beautiful glen all fringed and feathered with fresh young fronds of maiden-hair ferns, and masses of hydrangea bushes, which must be beautiful as a poet’s dream when they are covered with their great bunches of pale blue blossom.  That will not be until Christmas-tide, and, alas!  I shall not be here to see, for already my three halcyon days of grace are ended and over, and this very evening we must steam away from a great deal yet unvisited of what is interesting and picturesque, and from friends who three days ago were strangers, but who have made every moment since we landed stand out as a bright and pleasant landmark on life’s highway.

ON SANKOTA HEAD.

“Yay, Jim, there ain’t no doubt but Sairy Macy’s a mighty nice gal, but, thee sees, what I’m a-contendin’ fur is that she’s tew nice fur thee—­that is, not tew nice egzackly, but a leetle tew fine-feathered.  No, not that egzackly, nuther; but she’s a leetle tew fine in the feelin’s, an’ I don’t b’lieve that in the long run thee an’ she’ll sort well tugether.  Shell git eout o’ conceit with thy ways—­thee ain’t the pootiest-mannered feller a gal ever see—­an’ thee’ll git eout o’ conceit with hern.  Thee’ll think she’s a-gittin’ stuck up, an’ she’ll think thee’s a-gittin’low-minded.  Neow, Jim, my ’dvice is good; an’ ef thee’ll take it, an’ not go on with this thing no furder, thee’ll both be glad on it arterwa’ds.  ’Spesh’ly ’s she ain’t very rugged, an’ sickly gals had oughter hev rich husbands.”

“But, father, Sairy an’ me loves o’ ’nother.”

“Oh, wal, then it’s tew late ter say nothin’,” said the old man with a mingled sigh and smile as, raising his basket of quahaugs to his shoulder, he walked off, pressing his bare feet into the yielding sand with the firm but clumsy tread of vigorous old age.  The rough hat of plaited straw was pushed back from a brow that with a cultivated nature would have been considered as evidence of considerable intellectual power, but, as it was, only showed the probable truth of the opinion of his neighbors, that “Stephen Starbuck was a shrewd, common-sense ole feller.”

Jim was of a little finer grade than his father, having inherited some of the traits of his gentle mother, but the young Hercules could by no means have been mistaken for an Apollo; neither did his somewhat heavy features bear the expression of unselfish loyalty which would have given better promise than any mere refinement of features or manner for the future happiness of Sarah Macy.  But she found nothing wanting in her lover as she stood on the cliff-head gazing down