A moment later he was lunching superbly from cold chicken and apple tart out of the “’ole womans’” basket! Such is mortal man! Although I felt inclined to decline my little neighbor’s invitation to “lie down on mother’s bed,” it was a great help to me to have the baby so well cared for, and Bridget’s stout arms ready to stretch and nail carpets. Down they went rapidly, and was it the fresh breeze from the ocean, wafted through the pine trees, or was it the glass of rich Jersey milk that toned me up to such a cheery condition that, when Jerry’s step sounded on the gravel, I rushed to meet him, singing “Home, Sweet Home”? The good man was delighted with my progress, and especially with my report of the lovely little neighbors, which I lingered over. “And where are they now, Kittie?” “Let us go quietly out to the garden and see, for I am sure I do not intend to impose on good nature by giving over baby entirely to them.” The tall drooping willow tree in the grass plot sheltered a lovely group. Baby mine, sound asleep in the big clothes basket, was snugly tucked up and protected by the little ladies, attended by that fickle youth, Master Johnny. His squeaky voice was plainly heard explaining the mysteries of Cat’s Cradle and Wood Sawyer. But in a moment more he called wildly: “Ain’t that a big snake on the baby?” His companions sprang forward hurriedly, but the vicious boy only replied, “April Fool.” The two girls hung their heads and colored. I held my breath. I could not believe they did not understand the joke. It was only an instant, and then Sally, laying her soft hand on stupid little Johnny’s head, said in the silvery voice, so low and clear: “Dear, could thee not just as well say ‘Fourth Month Dunce’?” PAMELIA TEWKSBURY’S COURTSHIP. In a certain section of Central New York the contour of the hills forms a remarkable resemblance to a huge _pitcher_, and by this name the region has long been known. A few years since my husband and I, with a young son, took a delightful outing through that locality. Having our own horses and carriage, we made a very leisurely journey, aiming always for a comfortable resting place at night, and bearing away with us each morning a hamper containing luncheon for ourselves and a bag of oats for the ponies. Thus equipped, we traversed the distance to our next lodging according to our daily whim; picnicking at noon, in true gypsy fashion, beneath some pine trees, or beside a rippling stream; turning from coffee and sandwiches to a delicious course of “Humorous Sketches,” or a siesta upon pine boughs. Many comical adventures had we. It was difficult to convince the country people, who often stopped to chat with us, that this was recreation. They invariably demanded a legitimate reason for such unusual proceedings, and more than one inquiring visitor searched the light vehicle for some wares that he had “made sure” we were peddling.