us river-bit which it framed, the door opened suddenly,
and Nannette, my _fidus Achates_, and the companion of my summer,
ran in.

"Do you know," she cried, "I have just learned that we were
about to leave the place without visiting one of its greatest
curiosities? We have narrowly escaped going without having seen
the 'Old Maid's Village!'"

"The 'Old Maid's Village!'" I echoed, stupidly. "But what village
is _not_ the peculiar property of the race?"

"Yes, I know; but this village is really built on an old
maid's property, and by her own hands. And there is the 'Cat's
Monument,' too. Come! don't stop to talk about it, but let us
go and see it. It will be just the thing for a last evening; in
memoriam, you know, and all that. Get on your hat, and come, and
we shall see the sunset meeting the moonrise on the river once
more, as we return."

That, at least, was always worth seeing, I reflected; and so,
without more ado, I put on my wraps as I was bid, and reported
myself under marching orders.

How lovely, how indescribably lovely, the world was that
September afternoon, as we strolled along the shaded sidewalk
where the maples were already laying a mosaic of gold and garnet,
and looked off toward the river and the hills beyond--the far
blue hills--all veiled in tenderest amber mist! The very air
was full of soft, warm color; the sunbeams, mild and level now,
played with the shadows across our path, and every now and then a
leaf, flecked with orange or crimson, fluttered to our feet.
The blue-birds sang in the goldening boughs, unaffrighted by the
constant roll of elegant equipages in which, at this hour, the
residents of the stately mansions on either side the road were
taking the air; and the crickets hopped about undisturbed in the
crevices of the gray stone walls.

We walked leisurely on, past one and another lofty gateway, until
presently reaching an entrance rather less assuming than its
neighbors, but, like them, hospitably open, Nannette said, with
promptness:

"This is the place, I am sure. Square white house; black railing;
next to the printing-press man's great gate. Come right in; all
are welcome, and not even thank you to pay, for one never sees
anyone to speak to here."

It seemed to my modesty rather an audacious proceeding, but
trusting to my companion's superior information, I followed her
in, and we walked up a circular carriage-drive through smooth
shaven lawns dotted with brilliant clump