JOY'S JOURNAL.
"Philadelphia, Wednesday, June 18.
"We came to Philadelphia this morning, and we almost choked with the dust, riding through New Jersey. We're at a boarding-house,—a new one just opened. They call it the Markœ House. (I haven't the least idea whether I've spelled it right.) Uncle didn't sleep very well last night, so he wanted a quiet place, and thought the hotels were noisy. He thought once of going to La Pierre, but gave it up. Father used to go to the Continental, I know, because I've heard him say so. I'm too tired to write any more."
GYPSY'S JOURNAL.
"Thursday, June something or other.
"We stayed over a day here,—oh, 'here' is Philadelphia,—because father wanted us to see the city. It's real funny. People have white wooden shutters outside their windows, and when anybody dies they keep a black ribbon hanging out on them. Then the streets are so broad. I saw four Quakers this morning. We've been out to see Girard College, where they take care of orphans, and the man that built it, Mr. Stephen Girard, he wouldn't ever let any minister step inside it. Wasn't it funny in him?
"Then we went over to Fairmount, besides. Fairmount is where they bring up the water from the Schuylkill river, to supply the city. There is machinery to force it up—great wheels and things. Then it makes a sort of pond on top of a hill, and there are statues and trees, and it's real beautiful.
"Father wanted to take us out to Laurel Hill:—that's the cemetery, he says, very much like Mount Auburn, near Boston, where Aunt Miranda is buried. But we shan't have time."
GYPSY'S JOURNAL.
"Friday Night.