udience, and rather than fail before
so many, I was determined that either I should break the horse in, or
she should break me. I sprang into the saddle, but before I could seat
myself or put my foot in the stirrup, she jerked her head away from
Bernard, and commenced a series of exciting manoeuvres, rearing,
plunging, and kicking. For about five minutes I defied all the laws of
gravitation. But when the coachman tried to seize her bridle, she
shied so suddenly that I was surprised to find myself on terra firma.
I jumped up directly and assured every one that I had not hurt myself
in the least, in fact had never felt better; but between you and me, I
felt very like the dog that was tossed by the cow with the crumpled
horn. I am afraid that by this time I had let my little angry passions
rise--in other words, I was decidedly angry.

"I got on splendidly this time, and was quite ready to start with my
cousins when the time came, although my Lady Alice evinced serious
objections to the gate, and preferred ambling gently along sideways up
the hill. After a while I intimated kindly with my whip a desire to
gallop. I fear that, like some of our friends, she is hard to take a
hint, for she progressed by the most wonderful plunges, garnished with
little kicks; but I kept her head well up, and clawed out several
handfuls of her mane. When we came to the rendezvous, my cavalier
proposed running her for two or three miles to take down her spirits a
little, after which she went beautifully, and I never enjoyed a ride so
much before.

"We rode to Lake Wampus, and everything looked so lovely, for the full
moon lighted it up like a mirror, and we had singing and thrilling
ghost stories.

"Dear me, how awfully long this letter is! Be sure you answer it soon.

"Yours lovingly,

"GABRIELLE."

_June 19_.

The heat and dust are becoming insufferable, for we have had no rain,
save in very homoeopathic doses, during the three weeks that we have
been here. The shrubs and bushes by the roadside look so piteous under
their weight of dust, that I feel half inclined to try the effect of a
feather brush upon their drooping leaves; and Bernard, who is never
prone to take cheerful views of anything, grows daily more gloomy when
we inquire after the progress of the kitchen-garden. But, although we
are sighing under the heat, it is nothing, we are told, to what the New
Yorkers are now enduring, and our friends, Mrs. Acheson and Dr