In these days I made pilgrimages to editorial dens, and was surprised at the wonderful flow of conversation issuing from the mouths of powerful personages. _Why_ do editors talk so much to the neophyte? They kindly gave me a great deal of information, but it was gradually borne in upon me that they talked in order to protect themselves from boredom at my hands. Did they not know, from long and painful experience, just what every beginner at the trade would inevitably say? Hence they forestalled my uninteresting remarks—and answered my unformed questions in the proper way. I noticed that, after a certain amount of information had been imparted to me, the editor would take up a paper and become deeply absorbed in its contents. This was the signal for me to go. I soon learned not to invade the editor in his den, unless he or she encouraged me to do so. The following letter was written apropos of my pilgrimages to editorial dens: SCOTCH PLAINS, _Sunday P.M.,_ _Nov. 1, ’85_. DEAREST LAURA,—I was werry plose and thankful to receive your kind letter with so many addresses—werry nice kind & tanky much. But oh! Lovely as is a Haddress, it is perhaps the right address which fills us with the most lasting joy—as hennabling a feller to find the zbodd, as it were. I went to the Tribune Building—there was no Andrews Bazar there—the hoary bearded Janitor suggested Morse building the jan. of latter, said try Tract Building. At last after I had wandered up and down a kindly news paper advertising man told me he didn’t think there was “no such a person.” Or rather he told me he thought it had changed its name and become “The American Bazaar” where of he gimme the number but was too tired to look it up that day. Newport life furnished an excellent opportunity for summer correspondence. We lived near enough the town to enjoy something of its pleasures, yet far enough away to avoid absorption in the whirlpool of gaiety. When we were girls going into society we should have preferred to be nearer the center of things. But the six-mile trip to Newport was in reality a blessing. It enabled us to view the summer doings with a critical though friendly eye. Those who suppose that Newport society is entirely composed of frivolous people do not know the place. Its matchless climate, delightful air and peaceful beauty have always attracted people of quiet tastes, men of letters and artists. Colonel Waring, who did such important work in conquering yellow fever, lived for many years in Newport, where he had a model farm.