September 6.

My journal, about which I am usually so conscientious, has been neglected for nearly a week, for we have had a succession of visitors, and my time has been entirely taken up with drives, games of croquet, and starlight walks.

On Saturday, several friends came up with papa in the morning train; some merely to pass the day, and others to make a longer stay with us.  Mr. James Parton, the well-known author, had not visited dear Chappaqua in twenty years, and was desirous of seeing the changes that time had effected in this lovely spot.  Others, too, were visiting us for the first time, and preferred to see the wild, picturesque beauties of the place, rather than to drive, ride, or play croquet; consequently the company soon divided.  One party strolled off through the woods, and followed the course of the brook up to our tiny cascade—­now, however, swollen by the heavy rains we have recently had into quite a noisy and impetuous waterfall, while others who had earlier in the season spent long mornings with us under the pines and beneath the oaks on the side-hill, now enrolled themselves in Gabrielle’s regiment, confident that she would lead them to a glorious victory on the field of croquet.

We did not assemble again until our two o’clock dinner, and as soon as that meal was over, we started upon the long-contemplated picnic to Rye Lake.  A large six-seated carriage and a pair of stout horses had been hired, and Ida’s own phaeton and ponies were also at the door to convey our party to that most romantic sheet of water.

Every seat in the two conveyances was occupied, and all the available corners were filled with tightly packed baskets, containing charcoal and pine-cones to kindle a fire upon the smooth beach, tea-kettles and teapots, table linen, dishes and provisions.  The drive was one of the most delightful that we have yet had, and was heightened by the dreamy haze of autumn, that is now faintly perceptible.

The lake is private property, and picnics are frowned upon; however, the most attractive gentleman in our party was sent to ask permission for us to pass the afternoon there, and a cordial assent was quickly granted.

A well-trimmed sward, shaded by fine old oaks, was selected as the most suitable place to lay the cloth, and then, to pass away the time until six o’clock, several of the party went out in a row-boat.

“We were absent an hour or more, playing cards, singing, and drifting about; now and then grazing a rock, or narrowly escaping an upset, owing to the disproportion of weight among the passengers, and at sunset returned to our encampment.  Here we found a blazing fire, and the tea-kettle singing joyously.  An extensive meal was spread upon a neat white cloth, and we grouped about it upon our bright carriage rugs, so like leopard skins with their black spots upon a yellow ground.  Hot tea was a very agreeable substitute for the lemonade that generally forms the beverage at picnics, and as we all had excellent appetites, the meal passed off very pleasantly.