In the interior of the town is Halcyon Hall, owned by the Lovemore Company. This is a new and sumptuous hotel, fitted up with a careful attention to detail, which combines eighteenth-century romance with nineteenth-century convenience. Among its advantages over the older hostelries are: An Express Elevator to the Seventh Heaven, and a Dream Interpreter Call and United States Valentine Chute on every floor. It is also lighted by an Automatic Electric Moon. Other important hotels are Orchid Court, Honeymoon Hall, and Violet Villa. The Grand Union is an old and well-known hotel for married lovers. Less pretentious hostelries are the bijou Villa Beaubelle, Starlight Cottage, and Cupid’s Court. There are many Inns, both quaint and interesting. Their swinging sign-boards announce such appropriate appellations as “Arms and the Man,” “The Moon and I,” or “The World is Mine.” The St. Valentine Apartment House, situated on Good Times Square, is a residential building of the first class. * * * * * RESTAURANTS: These institutions are not specially popular in Arcady, as the inhabitants rarely have large appetites. Indeed, waiters often set artificial viands before their patrons, and the difference is not observed. Guests are always overcharged, as the true Lover has no thought of what he is paying and settles any bill without a murmur. A very popular table d’hôte service consists of Bread and Cheese and Kisses, and the partakers thereof drink to each other only with their eyes and leave a kiss in the cup, so that wine is never asked for. * * * * * SWEET SHOPS: These shops are well patronized and their wares include nectar, honey, angel-cakes, taffy, kisses, and sweets of all sorts. Orders are filled also for wedding-cakes, and very soft drinks are served in loving-cups. HEARD IN ARCADY MUSIC IN THE GRASS I In the summer of the summer, when the hazy air is sweet With the breath of crimson clover, and the day’s a-shine with heat, When the sky is blue and burning and the clouds a downy mass, When the breeze is idly dawdling, there is music in the grass— Just a thistly, whistly sound In the tangles near the ground; And the flitting fairies often stop to listen as they pass. Just a lisping, whisp’ring tune, Like a bumblebee’s bassoon, In a far-away fantasia, is the music in the grass. II