"Nature behaved admirably, and sent me back all the little tokens of her affection she had kept so long. The same delegates from the underground fauna ate up my early radishes; I think I should have been disappointed if they had not. The same buff-colored bugs devoured my roses that I remembered of old. The aphids and the caterpillar and the squash-bug were cordial as ever; just as if nothing had happened to produce a coolness or entire forgetfulness between us. But the butterflies came back too, and the bees and the birds." Says a well-known writer: "Though born and reared beneath the shadow of the great city, yet Doctor Holmes has ever found great delight in spending a portion of each year in the country. The last few summers he has made his home at Beverly Farms, but from 1849 to 1856, inclusive, his summer home was in Pittsfield, in Berkshire County. His recollections of the scenes and people in that charming town are pleasant and abundant. The villa which he built was upon a round knoll, commanding a fine view of the whole circle of Berkshire mountains, and of the Housatonic, winding in its serpentine way through the fertile meadows and valleys to the sound of Long Island. Yielding to his own good nature and the soft persuasion of a committee of Pittsfield ladies, Doctor Holmes once contributed a couple of poems to a fancy fair which was being held in the town during his residence there. They do not appear in any of the published collections, which is the one reason, above all others, why we print them now. Each of the poems was inclosed in an envelope bearing a motto; and the right to a second choice, guided by these, was disposed of in a raffle, to the no small emolument of the objects of the fair. The two pieces are even to this day represented by at least a square yard of the quaint ecclesiastical heraldry which illuminates the gorgeous chancel window of the St. Stephen's church in Pittsfield. The motto of the first envelope ran thus: Faith is the conquering angels' crown; Who hopes for grace must ask it; Look shrewdly ere you lay me down; I'm Portia's leaden casket. The following verses were found within: Fair lady, whosoe'er thou art, Turn this poor leaf with tenderest care, And--hush, oh, hush thy beating heart; The one thou lovest will be there. Alas, not loved by thee alone, Thine idol ever prone to range; To-day all thine, to-morrow flown, Frail thing, that every hour may change. Yet, when that truant course is done, If thy lost wanderer reappear, Press to thy heart the only one That nought can make more truly dear. Within this paper was a smaller envelope containing a one dollar bill, and this explanation of the poet's riddle: Fair lady, lift thine eyes and tell If this is not a truthful letter; This is the (1) thou lovest well, And nought (0) can make thee love it better (10)