he salmon!
Beautiful? I think so. And then she is so fresh, innocent, and affectionate. Last night I was telling her about the people in the world below, how crowded they were in cities, and how they had to struggle.
"Poor things!" she said, "poor things! how I pity them all that they have to stay down there. Why cannot they come up here from their troubles and be happy with us?"
She is learning to read, and believes everything she has yet found in the school books George Washington with his hatchet and all. The sweet, sweet child ! I am waiting to see what she will say when she comes to the story of Jonah and the whale.
The Prince is here, and happy too, back from his wanderings. Up from the world, up to this sort of half-way house to the better land.
To-day, when the sun was low, we sat down in the shadow of the pines on a mossy trunk, a little way out from the door. The sun threw lances against the shining mail of Shasta, and they glanced aside and fell, quivering, at our feet, on the quills and dropping acorns. A dreamy sound of waters came up through the tops of the alder and madrono trees below us.
The world, no doubt, went on in its strong, old way, afar off, but we did not hear it. The sailing of ships, the conventions of men, the praise of men, and the abuse of men; the gathering together of the fair in silks, and laces, and diamonds under the lights; the success or defeat of this measure or
