nterruptions, to give the matter a thought, and she had
never been known to forget such a promise.

Pegasus neighed reassuringly, and seizing the stub of a pencil
attached to the grocer's book, after a moment of concentration, in
which she closed her eyes to shut out the material vision before her,
she scribbled rapidly on a few blank pages in the back of the plebeian
record. After several readings of the lines and sundry interlined
revisions, she tore out the sheets, blessed Pegasus for coming in
under the wire so nobly, and hurried away to dress. At the appointed
time, sheepishly trying to conceal her unpoetic manuscript, which
there had been no time to copy, behind a lace fan, she arose, flushed
but sustaining her reputation for reliability as a programme feature.

'Twas for like-conditioned people, aspiring to work out their dreams
in words, tones, color or clay in congenial surroundings, undisturbed
by any domestic or other distraction or inharmony, that Edward
MacDowell conceived the idea now being carried out at Peterboro, New
Hampshire.

The plan was not to provide a rest-cure or moderate-priced summer home
for broken-down musicians, artists and writers, as many seem to think,
but to give those at the very height of their productiveness a chance
for undisturbed work, under the inspiration of nature in her most
alluring guise, and association, after work hours, with such rare
souls as could arouse higher aspiration by thought interchange and
comparison of ideals.

Ask the average workman along any artistic line what he would rather
have than anything else and he is very sure to tell you, "Leisure for
work!" And after that, the strongest desire is for the companionship
of some one who really understands what he is trying to do.

His good angel must have led Edward MacDowell to Peterboro. I can
imagine no other setting so perfect for the last act of his life, with
its shifting scenes. Whatever else the great power back of the
universe may be, He is the Master Artist, and in the making of this
village of enchantment He seems to have gathered together all His most
beautiful materials and combined them with lavish hand. Quaint and
picturesque houses are sprinkled over the foot-hills of the Monadnock
Mountains. Green fields go down to meet clear streams of placid water,
where trailing vines and overhanging boughs make charming shadows. The
sun sparkles against great gray boulders, lichen-grown, and upon
yellow sa