. Taylor,
who came out yesterday from the city to spend the day with us,
congratulated us upon the coolness of the temperature at Chappaqua.

The morning was passed out of doors playing croquet and walking

"Sotto i pini del boschetto,"

to use the words of the coquettish Countess and her arch waiting-maid
in the "Marriage of Figaro" (that Letter Duo contains, I think, some of
the most delicious music that the joyous Mozart ever wrote).

The sun was too hot after our early dinner, for us to find much
pleasure in croquet; so we sat in the music-room, and upon the piazza,
and listened to a few songs from Marguerite, and watched the skill of
papa and the handsome blond doctor in the "Magic Rings,"--a very easy
game, to all appearance, but one which really requires much dexterity
of hand.

The music-room is, I think, the coolest and pleasantest room in the
house. It is one of the additions built by uncle after he had
purchased this house--a large, square room on the ground floor, with
curtained windows opening upon the balcony, and upon the old
apple-tree. It is singularly favorable for music, for it contains no
heavy furniture, and the floor is uncarpeted. We had intended to
remove all the pictures from the walls, that they might not deaden the
sound of the music, but we could not resist an exquisite "Mary in the
Desert," purchased by uncle in Florence, in 1851; so this painting is
now hung over the piano.

Our sprightly brunette friend with the merry black eyes, Mrs. Acheson,
looked unusually pretty and charming yesterday. I love to describe
stylish toilettes as well as any fashion-writer; so here is hers in all
its details: steel-colored silk trimmed with turquoise blue,
demi-traine, her hair beautifully dressed (or _coiffured_, to use the
fashionable newspaper word) in puffs and rolls, and finished with a
little blue feather; while an elegant fan attached to half a yard of
gold chain depended from her belt.

When the 4.45 train was at hand, Ida and I walked down to the station
with our friends. Quite luckily there was a drawing-room car attached
to the train, although such luxury is generally confined to the
express, which does not stop here. I learnt, however, from the
station-master, that this car had borne some happy pair as far as
Albany the day before, had stayed there over-night for repairs, and was
now returning in a leisurely manner to New York.

CHAPTER VII.

Midsummer Day--An Artist's