gorgeous “Floral Festivals,” which are celebrated in every September, when the streets of the town blaze with processions of vehicles decorated with flowers, and the sidewalks and house-fronts are packed with thousands of delighted spectators; but if “of making many books there is no end,” there ought to be a proper end in the making of a book.  In the course of my life I may have done some very foolish things, and quite too many sinful things, but I have always endeavored to avoid doing too long a thing, if it were possible.

During the last twenty-three years I have spent a portion of almost every summer at Mohonk Lake Mountain House, a hostlery equally celebrated for the culture of its guests and charms of its scenery.  It is situated on a spur of the Shawangunk Mountains, about six miles from New Paltz, on the Wallkill Valley Railway.  Its discoverer and proprietor is Albert K. Smiley, who was for many years president of a Quaker Ladies Academy in Providence, R.I., and is a gentleman of fine scholarship and varied attainments.  He is quite equal to discussing geology with Professor Guyot (from whom one of the highest hilltops near his house is named), or art with Huntington, or botany or landscape gardening with Frederick L. Olmstead, or theology with Dr. Schaff, or questions of philanthropy with General Armstrong or Booker T. Washington.

The distinctive character of the house is that there is a notable absence of what is regarded as the chief attractions of some fashionable summer resorts.  Neither bar nor bottles nor ball-room nor bands are to be found in this Christian home;—­for a home it is—­in its restful and refining influences.  The young people find no lack of innocent enjoyment in the bowling alley or on the golf links, in the tennis tournaments or in rowing upon the lake, with frequent regattas.  Instead of the midnight dance the evening hours are made enjoyable by social conversation, by musical entertainments, by parlor lectures and other interesting pastimes.  The Sabbath at Mohonk realizes old George Herbert’s description of the

   “Sweet day so cool, so calm, so bright,
   The bridal of the earth and sky;”

Not a boat is loosened from its wharf on the lake; not a carriage is geared up for a pleasure drive, and many a guest has learned how a Sabbath spent without the introduction of either business cares or frivolities may be a joyous refreshment to both body and soul.  The spacious parlor is always crowded for the service of worship on every morning during the week and also on the Sabbath.  I can testify that on the three-score Sabbaths when I have been called upon to conduct the services, I have never found a more inspiring auditory.