dy."

LXV.

THE STATUE OF SHAKESPEARE.

Well, sisters, we got to New York in time, and went right up to Central
Park, which was just one garden of flowers, all in full bloom. The
trees, too, were of a bright, lovely green, and the little lakes blue as
a baby's eye, sparkled and rippled wherever the sun shone and the wind
swept over them. A wide green circle, with lots of trees shading it, and
great heaps of bushes heavy with pink and white flowers everywhere
around it, was just alive with men and women. They were all in their
Sunday go-to-meeting best, some on the grass, some in carriages, and all
chatting, laughing, and enjoying themselves mightily, but crowding
toward one spot.

Under these trees, where the grass was greenest, and the flowers
brightest, there was a sort of pyramid, covered over with star-spangled
banners of bright silk. Sweeping round that, like a ring cut in two,
were platforms with rows on rows of seats, built against flag-poles,
from which ever so many flags were a-streaming out on the wind. These
seats were crammed and crowded full of people. The centre platform was
roofed in, and just running over with men holding fiddles, drums,
twisted horns, trumpets, great puffy bass viols, and everything else
that could turn music into thunder, and thunder back into music.

There was an inside circle nearer to the pyramid, and our tickets took
us there, among the greatest people of the country, which was an honor I
felt in behalf of the society. This was the penetralia, which, I
suppose, from the first syllable, was got up especially for authors. I
took my seat in that honored place, and, spreading my white parasol,
looked about me, feeling the exaltation of my position in a modest way,
but willing that others should make their little mark even if I was
there.

Well, the first thing that came was a crash that made me hop right up,
and near about break my parasol. No wonder; for more than a hundred men
were just flooding the air with music, that rose and fell and fluttered
till the trees and bushes shook under it. I do believe the sweetness and
the thundering outbursts would have inspired me to break into some good
old tune myself, if there hadn't been so much rustling and talking and
flirting all around me. As it was, there arose a clatter of confusing
sounds that gave one's nerves a jerky feeling that I for one haven't got
over yet. I do wonder why city people have no better manners. I should