“Did you take Summer Gleanings,” do I hear some friend ask? Oh yes, we took it, but not one sketch did we add to it. The fever for sketching ran high last year and spent itself, but every day of the July pages is radiant with pressed flowers and ferns. One more trip and the book will be full, “a thing of beauty,” which will be “a joy forever.”
CHAPTER VIII.
NARRAGANSETT PIER AND MANOMET POINT.
“Think on thy friends when thou haply seest
Some rare, noteworthy object in thy travels;
Wish them partakers of thy happiness.”
We thought of omitting our annual letter to the Transcript, believing that vacations in everything are good; but, even before the journey existed, except in mind, a report of it was assumed as a matter of course, as the part belonging to our friends, who have not found opportunity to travel in our gypsy fashion. Then, too, we remembered the lines above, quoted by Andrew Carnegie, as we journeyed with him in his “Four in Hand through Britain,” and still more delightful “Round the World,” all in a hammock in those scorching July days, without a touch of fatigue or sea-sickness. Even a carriage journey on paper has some advantages, no dust, no discomfort of any kind; but we prefer the real thing, and enjoyed it so much we will change our mind and tell you a little about it. The places are all so familiar, and so near the “Hub” of the universe, that when you get to the end you may feel, as we did, as if you had not been anywhere after all. We did, however, drive four hundred miles, and had a very delightful time.
Before we really start, we must introduce to you the new member of our party. With deep regret and many tender memories we tell you we parted with our Charlie last spring, and a big, strong Jerry came to take his place. A friend in cultured Boston said, “Why, how will Jerry look in the Transcript?”
We did not go until September, and, like every one else, you may wonder why we waited so late, when we have often started as soon as the “crackers” were fired off. Well, Jerry had not become used to our climate, although July was hot enough for any Southerner. Then the company season came, and various things made it advisable to wait until September. We were quite reconciled, because you know all those “conjunctions” of the planets were to culminate in August, and it seemed likely the world was to be turned upside down. We thought it would be so much pleasanter to be swallowed up by the same earthquake, or blown away by the same cyclone as our home friends.
Jerry waxed in strength, the world still stood, the last summer guest had departed, and on the afternoon of Sept. 8, we started for Stow. “What on earth are you going there for?” and similar comments reveal the impressions of our friends; but we knew why, and do not mind telling you. We were going to Boston to begin our journey, and we could not go beyond Stow that afternoon, without going farther than we liked to drive Jerry the first day, for he is young and we were determined to be very considerate of him. We knew we should be comfortable at the little, weather-beaten hotel, and that Jerry would have the best of care.