"Ah, that's better than going to school,

isn't it?" said I, not so careful of my moral influence as a descendant of the Puritans ought to have been, perhaps; but I spoke from impulse, remembering myself how I also was tempted.

"Yes," said one of the children; "No," said another; and the reader may believe which he will, looking into his own childish heart, if he can still find it, as I hope he can.

Apple trees were loaded; hollyhocks, marigolds, and even tender cannas and dahlias, still brightened the gardens (so much for being near the sea, even on the North Shore), but what I most admired were the handsome yellow quinces in many of the door-yards. Quince preserve must be a favorite dish in Ipswich. I thought I should like to live here. I could smell the golden fruit—in my mind's nose—clean across the way. And when I reached the village square I stopped (no, I walked slowly) to watch a real Old Colony game that I had not seen played for many a day. Two young men had stuck a jackknife into the hard earthen