An entree into the hotel in our wet dresses was rather a formidable affair for Ida and myself, as all the boarders were assembled upon the piazza to see, I suppose, how we looked after our "miraculous escape from drowning." Hastening past them into a private room, we took off our dripping wraps, and supplied their places with brilliant plaid shawls lent us by the landlady, in which we drove back to Chappaqua--to the wonder, I doubt not, of all who recognized us on the way. The horses this time went more evenly, and the entire strain of propelling the carriage did not fall upon poor Lady Alice. But when we reached home, Mr. Reid's white suit, and our dresses, veils, and even faces, were a sight to behold from the liquid mud with which we were bespattered. We had to turn out of our way for a couple of miles, as a tree blown down by the storm lay across the main road, and this second detention did not increase the enthusiasm of our welcome from Lina, for dinner had been ordered at half-past three, and it was five when we reached the house. Her pet dessert, a lemon _soufflee_, intended to be eaten as soon as baked, was not, I must own, improved by standing so long; but otherwise no serious damage was done to the dinner, and we were thankful that our adventures when indulging in pleasure parties on Sunday were over. The evening passed quietly, but very agreeably. Mr. Reid went down to the city in the six o'clock train, and papa read aloud to us Byron's splendid, stirring "Isles of Greece," and portions of "Childe Harold." Reading poetry is quite an accomplishment of papa's, and although he is very happy in sentimental and heroic verse, he has also a keen sense of humor, and his reading of comic and dialect poems, especially those of Hans Breitmann, have been much complimented; indeed, in "our circle" he is the reader par excellence of Bret Harte, John Hay, and Hans Breitmann. _August 7_. Marguerite and Ida went down yesterday to the city for a day's shopping, a relaxation of which we are all quite fond. I walked down to the station to meet them upon their return, and was not a little surprised to see a third black-robed figure emerge from the cars with them. Too _petite_ to be Gabrielle, who has been visiting a school-friend for the last week, it was not until the second glance that I recognized the abundant golden-brown hair and romantic eyes of our pretty cousin, Theresa Walling.