I trust that my readers have not cluded from the preg chapter on books that reading is my only pleasure; my pleasures and amusements are many and varied.
More than on the course of my story I have referred to my love of the try and out-of-door sports.
When I was quite a little girl, I learo row and swim, and during the summer, when I am at Wrentham, Massachusetts, I almost live in my boat. Nothing gives me greater pleasure than to take my friends out rowing when they visit me. Of course, I ot guide the boat very well. Some one usually sits iern and mahe rudder while I row. Sometimes, however, I go rowing without the rudder. It is fun to try to steer by the st of watergrasses and lilies, and of bushes that grow on the shore. I use oars with leather bands, which keep them in position in the oarlocks, and I know by the resistance of the water when the oars are evenly poised. In the same manner I also tell when I am pulling against the current. I like to tend with wind and wave. What is more exhilarating than to make your staunch little boat, obedient to your will and muscle, go skimming lightly listening, tilting waves, and to feel the steady, imperious surge of the water!
I also enjoy oeing, and I suppose you will smile when I say that I especially like it on moonlight nights. I ot, it is true, see the moon climb up the sky behind the pines and steal softly across the heavens, making a shining path for us to follow; but I know she is there, and as I lie back among the pillout my hand ier, I fancy that I feel the shimmer of her garments as she passes. Sometimes a daring little fish slips between my fingers, and often a pond-lily presses shyly against my hand. Frequently, as we emerge from the shelter of a cove or i, I am suddenly scious of the spaciousness of the air about me. A luminous warmth seems to enfold me. Whether it es from the trees which have beeed by the sun, or from the water, I ever discover. I have had the same strange sensation even in the heart of the city. I have felt it on cold, stormy days and at night. It is like the kiss of warm lips on my face.
My favourite amusement is sailing. In the summer of 1901 I visited Nova Scotia, and had opportunities such as I had not enjoyed before to make the acquaintance of the o. After spending a few days in Evangelines try, about which Longfellows beautiful poem has woven a spell of entment, Miss Sullivan and I went to Halifax, where we remaihe greater part of the summer. The harbour was our joy, our paradise.
What glorious sails we had to Bedford Basin, to Mabbs Island, to York Redoubt, and to the Northwest Arm! And at night what soothing, wondrous hours we spent in the shadow of the great, silent men-of-war. Oh, it was all so iing, so beautiful! The memory of it is a joy forever.
One day we had a thrilling experiehere was a regatta in the Northwest Arm, in which the boats from the different warships were engaged. We went in a sail-boat along with many others to watch the races. Hundreds of little sail-boats swung to and fro close by, and the sea was calm. When the races were over, aurned our faces homeward, one of the party noticed a black cloud drifting in from the sea, which grew and spread and thied until it covered the whole sky. The wind rose, and the waves chopped angrily at unseen barriers. Our little boat frohe gale fearlessly; with sails spread and ropes taut, she seemed to sit upon the wind. Now she swirled in the billows, now she s