August 4.

A gap in my journal of several days, during which time I have found it impossible to write.  I have now several events to record.

Papa came out Saturday afternoon to make us his weekly visit, accompanied by Mr. Reid.

Papa’s “young chief” looked as well as though he had not the weight of the new nine-story Tribune building upon his shoulders this hot weather, and was exceedingly agreeable.  Those who have only known Mr. Reid in New York salons and in editorial rooms can have no idea what a different man he is when enjoying the relaxation of the country.  Never could I have imagined that the haughty young proprietor of The Tribune would condescend to participate in “ring toss,” croquet, and similar frivolities; but I have found this summer that, besides being an adept in the masculine accomplishments of driving and riding, he is an enthusiastic champion of croquet, taking apparently the same pleasure in sending an adversary’s ball to the extreme limits of the croquet-ground that he would in refuting a Times editorial.

The evening was devoted to cards and ballad-singing, for, although so prominent a member of New York literary society, Mr. Reid does not, I am glad to say, think it necessary to dislike music.

For the next day an expedition to Croton Lake had been planned.  When alone, we never drive on Sunday, except to church, lest our sober Puritan neighbors should be shocked; but as we had a guest for that day, we made an exception to our usual severe rules; for a Sunday in Chappaqua is somewhat gloomy to a visitor.  Immediately after breakfast, therefore, the carriage came, and Ida and I, with papa and Mr. Reid, started on this pleasant little excursion, papa mischievously suggesting that we should look pious, and the neighbors would never know that we were not going to church.

One little contretemps marked our departure.  The Duchess had been lame for a day or two, and another horse had been hired for the day to replace her.  The strange horse was evidently the property of a Quaker, and more accustomed to going to meeting than on frivolous pleasure parties, for she was a very staid and subdued animal, and strongly disinclined to keep up with the lively pace adopted by spirited little Lady Alice.  The drive, therefore, was decidedly an interesting one.  Papa held the reins, and Mr. Reid devoted himself to whipping up the laggard beast.  In this style we proceeded over the country at a moderate pace, and finally reached the beautiful lake and the hotel upon its banks.  The shade of the broad piazza formed a very pleasant relief from the heat overhead, and we were glad to rest a little while.  We had not been there many minutes before some one recognized Mr. Reid, and informed the portly landlord, who immediately hastened upon the scene, and welcomed him to Croton Lake with enthusiasm.

In the parlor the piano was open, and half a dozen children were drumming upon it; therefore, seeing that “music” on Sundays was not prohibited by the rules of the house, I went to the piano when the children wearied of it, and sung, at Ida’s request, an Ave Maria, and grandpapa’s favorite “Rock of Ages.”  We had some little amusement over the necessity of going four miles from home in order to enjoy music on Sundays.