Somewhat astonished at so extensive a demand upon her purse, Marguerite gave her another dollar, whereupon the gypsy at once declared that the young lady had a lucky face, and would never want for anything during her life.  The usual dark and fair gentlemen figured largely in her fortune, and—­with a glance at Marguerite’s blonde complexion—­she was to beware the treachery of a brunette rival; however, she was destined to triumph in the end, and would indeed succeed in all her undertakings.  I am sure the gypsy could have promised no less, considering the high price she placed upon her predictions.

Gabrielle’s experience is very different.  She is visiting a former schoolmate, a young girl of her own age.  Bessie is now a pupil of Vassar College, and enthusiastic over her studies:  consequently the amusements of the two girls are of a very sedate nature:  in Gabrielle’s words, “A hermit in his cell, my dear Cecilia, never had a more quiet life than I at present enjoy.”

She and Bessie had commenced, Gabrielle told me, to write a story together.  The debut was most brilliant, and for a time they worked very harmoniously, but unluckily the two little authoresses had different views respecting the proposal (not drawn from life, I imagine, considering their years), and in Gabrielle’s letter of yesterday no mention was made of the progress of the story.

The letter, which was very vivacious, was chiefly devoted to the girls’ exploits while taking a buggy drive.  Gabrielle, who is so fearless with her own ponies, quite scorned the lamb-like animal that was sent up from the livery stable, but she appears to have had much diversion, nevertheless, to judge from her letter.  She says: 

“Yesterday I tried to break the monotony of life at Seneca Lake by hiring a buggy and horse for Bessie and me to drive.  You should have heard the shriek of horror that rent the air at the approach of the peaceful old nag.  Miss Carpenter exclaimed: 

“‘Oh mercy, he points his ears!’

“Poor beast, his ears were pointed by nature, and he could not help it.  Mrs. Brown burst forth to the astonished stableman: 

“’Does he kick, roll, rear, bite, or shy?  Tell me quick, for I know he must do some of them.’

“We did have our drive though, and an adventure too, for we were caught in the rain, and entered a barn where a handsome young man acted the part of host, and generously bestowed hay upon our horse.”

August 16.

A telegram last night from Marguerite, saying, “Will come on the early train with the Honorable Francis”—­a very pleasant surprise, for, knowing the habits of that gentleman, we had supposed him to be, if not at the Antipodes, at least in Europe; accordingly, we went down to meet the train in quite a flutter of excitement.