ed the beautiful lake and the hotel upon its banks. The shade of
the broad piazza formed a very pleasant relief from the heat overhead,
and we were glad to rest a little while. We had not been there many
minutes before some one recognized Mr. Reid, and informed the portly
landlord, who immediately hastened upon the scene, and welcomed him to
Croton Lake with enthusiasm.

In the parlor the piano was open, and half a dozen children were drumming
upon it; therefore, seeing that "music" on Sundays was not prohibited by
the rules of the house, I went to the piano when the children wearied of
it, and sung, at Ida's request, an Ave Maria, and grandpapa's favorite
"Rock of Ages." We had some little amusement over the necessity of going
four miles from home in order to enjoy music on Sundays.

The water looked very inviting, rippling up to the beach, and a row to
Croton Dam was proposed. After some little delay, a boat and a very
good-natured negro boatman were procured, and we departed.

The sun, I must own, was rather hot at that hour of the day, and struck
with peculiar force upon our hot bombazine dresses, and heavy crape
veils. Ida and I looked with a sigh at Mr. Reid's cool white flannel
suit. Sam, the boatman, ceased to row, and let the boat drift, being
overcome by the heat, while papa sat in the bow, and looked disconsolate
that he had not the morning news to read.

We were now at quite a distance from the shore, and as there was no one
present but the boatman to be shocked by hearing secular music, I
ventured to sing a few simple ballads, for music and water I think blend
most harmoniously.

Soon light, fleecy clouds commenced to shield us from the sun's scorching
rays; we closed our parasols, and played with the deliciously cool water,
wondering meantime like Miss Helen, in that exquisite "Atlantic" story,
if we could call up a mermaid front below. But while we were drifting
along so charmingly, the clouds had become heavier and blacker, and
seizing the oars, Sam commenced to row with desperate haste. We were,
however, beaten in our race with the storm, and reached Croton Dam in a
perfect tempest of thunder, and lightning, and dashing rain.
Unfortunately Ida and I had worn slippers, not having expected to walk,
and there was only one umbrella in the party--our little parasols with
their crape borders and bows being more suitable for ornament than
service; however, we scrambled up the steep bank as best we