IN THE ADIRONDACKS.

It was the last week of July, and the guests of a certain hotel,

located amidst the pine and balsam of the famed Adirondack wilderness,

were thrown into a flutter of excitement.

It had been steadily raining for three days and nights, and now that

the fourth day was nearing its close a golden light appeared in the

west. The mirror-like surface of the lake before the hotel rapidly

revealed the many shades of crimson red and deep gold, while fleecy

clouds of pink and white merged into deeper tints.

Every one was on the piazza, called there by an enthusiast to witness

the beauty of it all. Every face smiled because the long storm was over

at last, and there seemed a promise of radiant sunshine for to-morrow.

Suddenly a voice from the north piazza called to a young gentleman who

had been walking about with a rather dissatisfied air, “I hear wheels.

Now for the excitement of an arrival.”

It was only the waiting of a few moments, and two bay horses, much

bespattered with mud and mire, drew the heavily built two-seated surrey

to the hotel steps.

Guests stood about by twos and threes, most of them with half-averted

faces, not willing to openly show the inquisitive feeling that each

possessed. However, many furtive glances were cast. Perhaps among the

most searching, were those given by the dissatisfied young man.

“Permit me, madam.” It was the proprietor’s voice, as he aided a

tall, fair-skinned, stern and aristocratic-looking matron to alight,

assisting her meanwhile to unfasten her travelling cloak, which had

caught on a nail in the end of a seat. The lady slowly remarked, as her

feet touched the horse block. “That nail has been rather too much in

evidence.”

By the matron’s side a young lady had sat. This fact had been observed

by all the guests, before they had turned their heads away, and now

that she too had left the carriage, her golden hair and soft hazel

eyes were mentally remarked, as also her graceful carriage and elegant

tailor-made gown.

The proprietor, lifting one of the hand-satchels, leaving the umbrellas

and other small luggage for the porter, led the way to the office.

Then they hastily entered, and a few minutes later walked through the

dimly-lighted corridor, for it was not yet dark enough to illuminate.

“I reckon that girl has never been in the woods before,” said the

dissatisfied man to his friend. For now, side by side, he and a young

fellow about thirty strode slowly up and down, exchanging confidences

and chatting in a desultory fashion.

“She does not seem to the manner born, that’s a fact,” said the other,

“but she’s an interesting type, and probably an addition to our house

party.” He turned an interested face towards his friend and said:

“There’s far more the flavor of Narragansett Pier or Bar Harbor about

her than of the woods, or she may have come from Saratoga. We’ll not

have to wait long to see, or I’m not a correct judge, but her mother

may prove a formidable chaperon.”

The mother and daughter, for their relationship was at once identified,

some one having accommodatingly referred to the register, and reported

information to the others, were not long in reappearing, and the young

men, still walking back and forth, were not surprised to discover that

their prediction was correct.

“Maud, dear, how shall you exist here?” were the half-petulant words

overheard as the mother languidly seated herself.

“It will not be Saratoga, I confess. But isn’t that lake enchanting?”

The girl’s face was very fair and bewitchingly amiable.

“Yes, it is pretty. But shall you ever forget our trip to this hotel?

Such roads!”

Maud met her mother’s questioning eyes, then noting a middle-aged woman

approaching them, with face full of kindly greeting, waited.

“You are strangers,” were this lady’s first words, adding as she

reached forth her hand: “I fear you will feel lonely and tired, after

the long drive.”

The mother at once extended her hand. Then the lady asked the girl,

“Have you ever been in the woods before?”

“Never, and my mother fears I shall not like it. It did seem lonely,

the last drive through the pines,” and the sensitive mouth quivered

ever so slightly, as she explained. “The drive up was so long, the

roads so thickly wooded, and here,” with a half-frightened glance

about, as though she feared a fox or a bear would cross the walk before

her, “you have only the lake.”

Without a word the lady laughed merrily, but hastily checked herself.

“I promise you that if you will only join in our sports you will find

that there is much here besides the lake. Though,” coyly scanning her,

“the lake has its amusements, fishing, boating. Oh, the gentlemen here

will be delighted to introduce you to it.”

Maud’s mother looked both surprised and confused. The lady continued,

as though she noted her not. “You will find the camps about the

lake quite as entertaining as Saratoga’s Floral Fête, or indeed any

fashionable watering-place amusement.”

“Camps? I don’t quite understand,” Maud’s mother remarked, with a

touch of bitterness in her tone, for the darkening wood about, now that

night was coming fast, made her slow to relent. It was strange she had

chosen to come to such a spot.

“I think one has to visit these camps to understand,” the lady

explained. “But you will always find them hospitable, furnishing

afternoon tea every day you care to call. And some days there are

special _fêtes_, full of pleasant surprises, when amusements such as

the thimble game and proverbs are played, at which prizes are sometimes

offered as an added incentive. Last season the hostess of one of the

camps gave a children’s party. There happened to be a few here that

year, for children are a rarity in the Adirondacks. Of course their

parents, uncles, aunts and cousins came, too. That entertainment has

been talked about ever since. The party opened with the wild flower

hunt. Small bouquets had been hidden among the balsam boughs, low

enough for the little ones to reach; others were behind bushes or

rocks. These bouquets were made up of clover, daisies and wild roses.

Whichever child found the most wild roses received a prize.

“This amusement was followed by the hunt for Cinderella’s Slipper. The

successful one at this game also received a prize. After this, the

hostess invited all the children into the balsam-covered lean-to, and

told them a story about the old man of Humbug Mountain. Humbug Mountain

towers just behind, you notice the tallest mountain over there, don’t

you?” and the lady motioned to the left, as they faced the lake.

“Yes, but what has reddened the trees so? Why, mother, did you ever see

anything as beautiful?” and while pronouncing the word “beautiful,”

Maud’s countenance was full of delight.

“That is the afterglow,” the lady replied, but not waiting for further

remark, she continued: “I was telling you about the old man of Humbug

Mountain. The hostess explained to the children that sometimes he

visited her camp, and when he did so he whistled, and that if he should

whistle that afternoon, she would take the children back of the lean-to

to see him. At that very moment a whistle clear and shrill was heard,

and the children, already enamoured with the story, could scarcely

be sufficiently restrained to allow the hostess to proceed. When the

laughing, curious children ran behind the lean-to, sure enough, as had

been promised, there was an old man. He was standing on a table. It was

a dwarf skilfully arranged by two people.”

“Oh that was it?” Maud interrupted, for she had listened intently, and

was apparently as eager to discover the identity of the old man of

Humbug Mountain, as had been the children of the party, and then she

added: “I happen to know about that, for I was part of a dwarf once,”

and with a wise little shake of her head explained, “It is arranged by

two people.”

“Yes, and is it not capital?”

“Fine, when it is well done,” and Maud who was already feeling at home

with her companion, added: “And of course the dwarf from the mountain

would be well done.”

“Indeed he was. He told short, witty stories, laughed, danced and

capered to the children’s great delight. They would clap their hands

for joy. It was a rare sight for the grown-ups to watch the color

come and go in their expressive faces, their fluffy curls and tangle

of waves and braids tumbling about as the little girls shook with

laughter, and some of the boys were even more amusing than the girls,

because they looked so earnest, even solemn, in their efforts to find

an explanation for the old man. One little chap said he would get his

father to carry his rifle now all the time, because they might meet

the old man sometimes when he wouldn’t feel as jolly, and what then?

In fact he was about certain he had seen the old man one day stealing

away behind a big stump, and even some of the children laughed when he

explained: ‘It was the very same day, that I almost saw a black bear.

I could hear him growl. I tell you I ran! Like as not there was a fox

too, or a wild cat?”

“Well, after the dwarf exhibition, there were refreshments at which the

children toasted marshmallows and popped corn.”

“Why, after all, Maud,” said her mother, thawing out suddenly, “I fancy

you may like it here. There seem to be things going on.”

“_Like_ it,” quoted the lady. “No one ever wants to go home when she

once gets a taste of Adirondack life. It is like the hounds following

the deer. People take to the woods.”

Suddenly there sounded through the hall the first measures of an

orchestra.

“The music has begun, and I must dress,” said Miss Friend-in-Need,

noting the questioning glance between mother and daughter. “That music

is a signal to-night. A few of us give a part of the Midsummer Night’s

Dream this evening, in the parlor, and we are to costume ourselves as

far as possible before supper.

“What fun we’ve had getting the affair up! You may not know that it has

simply poured here for days and days, but we’ve laughed until we’ve

cried at our rehearsals, and so have scarcely been troubled by rain.

“You’ll surely come to the first and last performance of this wonderful

company, will you not?” and walking away, the lady looked over her

shoulder for an answer. And having won a reply in the affirmative, the

lady rapidly hurried to her room.

After supper, as Maud’s mother took her seat, to which she was shown by

a young man acting as usher, she noticed the parlor had been lavishly

trimmed with boughs of green. There was also a tiny wood adjoining the

stage, made of small balsam trees.

“I suppose,” she remarked to her daughter, “they went out between the

drops and gathered them.” And then both ladies interestedly noticed the

guests, as one after the other, with an air of expectancy, entered.

Programmes were passed and eagerly scanned.

It was indeed a gala night. Had Maud and her mother known the various

performers, it would have greatly added to their entertainment, but

as it was, they could not help adding their applause to that of the

others. Even though Maud was a stranger, the joyous shouts of laughter

proved too contagious to be altogether resisted, and indeed before the

performance was over, close contact with these merry people made Maud

feel as though she was one of them, so quickly does one touch of nature

make the whole world kin.

As the programme indicated the different characters, they were

carefully read, and many ejaculations were overheard, such as: “Oh,

that’s Isabel’s character,” and “Why, Carl Adams will be a sight,

he’s such a swell, you know. How did such an exquisite ever consent to

humble himself in this way?”

To Maud and her mother, however, all were strangers, with the one

exception of the proprietor of the hotel, but they very soon learned

the names of the people about them. Besides, as Maud’s mother very

truly said, “Without it I am not positive that I could remember who the

different ones are in the piece, as it is a long time since I have read

the Midsummer Night’s Dream.” Therefore, while waiting for the first

scene, they read:

THESEUS, Duke of Athens,

_Proprietor of the hotel_.

EGEUS, Father to Hermia,

_Mr. A——_.

LYSANDER, }

DEMETRIUS,} in love with Hermia,

_Mr. C—— and Mr. H——_.

PHILOSTRATE, Master of the revels to Theseus,

_Mr. T——_.

QUINCE, a carpenter,

_Master Carl Adams_.

SNUG, a joiner,

_Master John Jones_.

BOTTOM, a weaver,

_Mr. Sam S——_.

FLUTE, a bellows-mender,

_Mr. Ralph R——_.

SNOUT, a tinker,

_Master Diedrick Delk_.

STARVELING, a tailor,

_Mr. Percy P——_.

HIPPOLYTA, Queen of the Amazons, betrothed to Theseus,

_Miss Genevieve B——_.

HERMIA, daughter to Egeus, in love with Lysander,

_Mrs. Ralph R——_.

HELENA, in love with Demetrius,

_Mrs. Sam S——_.

OBERON, King of the fairies,

_Mr. James D——_.

TITANIA, Queen of the fairies,

_Miss Isabel M——_.

PUCK, or Robin Goodfellow,

_Master Alexander Marvin_.

PEASEBLOSSOM,}

COBWEB, } Fairies,

MOTH, }

MUSTARDSEED, }

_The Misses Wilson, Bruce, Sim, Conger._

Other fairies attending their King and Queen,

_Misses Kate W——, Fanny T——, Eva M——_.

Attendants on Theseus and Hippolyta,

_Masters Goodwin, Bartlett, Carrington and Scott._

As Maud’s mother inquired when in the seclusion of their own

apartments, “Did you really like it so very much?”

Maud answered laughing, “More than I can express.”

The following morning it was a question, “What would be the proper

costume for breakfast?”

From one of their windows they had a partial view of the lake, but

from the other nothing but tall trees met their eyes. Pines were in

abundance, but there was an occasional hemlock, spruce, birch and maple.

“It is summer. Would you think that this white organdy would do?” asked

Maud, and the frock, apparently only a cloud of Valenciennes lace, was

held towards her mother.

“Do? I am sure I don’t know what is considered correct for such a

wilderness, but you might not be warm enough. I fancy it is cold

outdoors.”

“I’ll tell you what I’ll wear,” said the young lady presently, for she

had a wonderful conception of color values, and knew what would look

best with her dark eyes, and also what would produce the most fetching

effect, should she be able to induce her mother to walk among the

trees after breakfast. “I am going to put on my crimson piqué, bodice

and all,” for she had several waists that could be worn with the same

skirt, and as her quick eyes looked over the guests at breakfast, she

was not sorry the decision had been against the organdy.

“All night my dreams were of the entertainment,” said Maud, as, sitting

opposite her mother, she tried to pour the cream into her coffee. “It

is almost too thick to stir. Did you ever see such cream?” she said.

“I never saw thicker. And this trout is delicious. It would be singular

indeed if I were won to this place. But, Maud, tell me about your

dream, dear.”

“Oh, I dreamed of Titania and Oberon, Queen and King of the fairies,

you know. I could see the airy things moving over the green. It was

Midsummer-Night’s Dream truly, for I dreamed of the pretty piece, and

isn’t this Midsummer?”

“Why, Maud! I fancy you slept well. Perhaps you’ll be surprised to

learn that I too dreamed of our evening’s pleasure.”

“Surprised! Yes, indeed!” and Maud’s eyes sought her mother’s. “What

part did you dream about?”

“I think it is the opening of the second act, when the fairy replies to

Puck,

Over hill, over dale,

Thorough bush, thorough brier,

Over park, over pale,

Thorough flood, thorough fire,

I do wander everywhere.

You remember how it goes, don’t you?”

“Perfectly; and didn’t that fairy look lovely? I am sure I shall be

glad to know her. But Puck I am not as sure about.”

“Could you pass me the rolls, Maud?”

“Certainly, take that one,” and Maud turned the plate so that her

mother could have a temptingly brown roll.

“And now,” continued her mother, as she contentedly broke the roll

open, “tell me more about your dream.”

“You know towards the close, Oberon and Titania entered with their

train.”

“Do you mean where Oberon sings,

Though the house gives glimmering light,

By the dead and drowsy fire,

Every elf and fairy sprite,

And so on?”

“Yes, those are the very words. And didn’t Titania have a sweet voice?

I hope she’ll sing often. I am sure everybody must enjoy listening to

her. I thought this beautiful:

First rehearse your song by rote,

To each word a warbling note.

Hand in hand with fairy grace,

Will we sing and bless this place.”

As Maud said, “bless this place,” the lady who had welcomed Maud and

her mother the evening before was walking past their table, and having

overheard the words, she stopped.

“Just what I like to hear.” Then mischievously looking at Maud’s

mother. “But I did not expect the woods to have won so much enthusiasm

already, did you?”

“No, I did not,” and the mother’s lip unbent into a sunny smile. “But

there is no telling what we may both say yet.”

“This fish breakfast has been delicious, and besides everybody looks

rested and cheery.”

“That is just the point; no one can help being rested, because

midnight-oil is unknown here and how can people help being cheery, when

this bracing air is a tonic; And besides we have so many delightful

sports. There are to be charades, and rollicking games, such as Twirl

the Platter, and Going to Jerusalem, this evening, and to-day there

are several things on hand. One is a driving and riding party. All the

young people, with two chaperones, are going over to the next hotel to

dinner. By the way, do you ride?”

And Maud, whose face was flushed with the memory of her many pleasant

hours on horseback, answered, “I could ride almost forever.”

“Then you are the very young lady we want,” and turning to Maud’s

mother, “I’m to be one of the chaperones. I’ll promise to bring her

home safe. There is a fine saddle-horse waiting to be ridden, and——a

fine young man, who is in despair because every one but himself has a

riding companion. He is a New York lawyer. May I introduce him?” were

her words, as the trio left the breakfast-room together.

The answer must have been “Yes,” because, an hour later, one dowager

said to another, “Did you hear that new girl, that airish creature with

the golden hair, and sleepy-looking dark eyes, who came just before

supper last evening, has gone off horseback riding with the one we

called ‘the dissatisfied young man?’ He seems to be perfectly satisfied

now. I suppose neither of our daughters was good enough for him.”

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