Visit--Ida's Letter--Moonlight on Croton
Lake--Morning Readings--Plato and Kohlrausch.

_June 21_.

In honor of Midsummer Day, Marguerite and I have spent the morning at
the piano, playing Mendelssohn's delicious fairy music from the
Midsummer Night's Dream.

We have had little time to practise or read this week, for company has
been of almost daily occurrence; Marguerite returned yesterday morning
from a flying visit to the city, accompanied by our friends, Colonel
Rogers and Mr. Hows, the artist, who is a neighbor of ours in our rural
part of the city--Cottage Place. Colonel Rogers was dressed entirely
in gray, a costume that looked delightfully cool, and was a perfect
match for his eyes.

The morning was spent in playing croquet, and in showing our guests
over the place, whose wild beauty delighted Mr. Hows' artistic eyes.
We walked first to the flower-garden, where we gathered flowers to
dress the table for dinner, and then visited the pine grove, the
romantic dell, and the stone barn of which uncle was always so proud,
where we spent an hour amid the sweet hay.

For the evening a drive was proposed, as we have now quite recovered
from our former dread of malaria. Ida held the ribbons on this
occasion, and as I was not one of the party, I will insert her graceful
description of the pleasant evening.

"CHAPPAQUA.

"DEAR JULIA: I was so sorry to get your letter saying you could not
come. I wish you had not let your tiresome old dressmaker deprive me
of the pleasure of your company on our expedition to Croton Lake.

"I must tell you all about the delightful time we had. Two of the
numerous friends of our blue-eyed Marguerite, Colonel Rogers and Mr.
Hows, whose exquisite pictures you and I have so often enjoyed
together, were our cavaliers on this occasion. As our light carriage
only has room for four, I drove the ponies myself. We started just
about sundown, and the pleasant coolness of evening came on while there
was still daylight enough to light up the constantly changing panorama
of hill and dale, and forest and distant river, beyond which the blue
mountain range dimly seen, now seemed to emerge into bolder relief, and
again to fade back into cloud-land.

"Mr. Hows' delight in the scenery was certainly equalled by mine in
listening to its praises. I am very fond of this part of Westchester,
and when people talk of the beauties of the Adirondacks, I listen with
the silent conviction that we h