MY VACATION.
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��MY VACATION.
��BY ANABEL C. ANDREWS.
��I was tired, body and mind. All night long I toiled at the cooking-stove or over the mending-basket, and every nerve felt as though it had been rasped. In consequence I grew pale, heavy- eyed ard spiritless. The good old family physician shook his head grave- ly and said :
" You do n't need any medicine, but you do need, and must have a vaca- tion ; and that you can 't have without entire change of scene. You must go away from home."
" But, doctor, how can I ? Who will take my place?"
Laying his hand kindly on my head, he said slowly :
" Some one will have to take your place when the coffin-lid shuts you from sight."
"What shall I do?"
" Do ? why, inflict a visit on some of the many who have visited you."
" No," said my husband ; " if she needs rest, that is n't the way to get it. Let her think of some place she would like to visit, and board somewhere in that place, until she is rested and well.
"Most wisely said; now Mrs. An- drews when shall it be, and can I assist you in any way? "
" I think," I replied, " I would like best of all to go to Purgatory."
The doctor looked slightly shocked, and said something about not caring to assist me much in that direction ; but my husband laughed, and said :
" Let her go, doctor ; it 's a good place. I know, because I have been there."
So I packed a valise, and Maud and I put on our blue flannel suits, and started for Purgatory.
Up over the Nashua & Wilton road to Milford ; from Milford \o\ Mont Vernon in the stage. The ride from
��Milford to Mont Vernon is a continual ascent of four miles, and on the sum- mit of a high hill, from which, on a clear day, the ocean is plainly seen — the little village sits perched like a huge bird ready to fly at a moment's warn- ing. Our room was ready for us at the hotel, and, after resting and doing full justice to the fine dinner, we ram- bled out for sight- seeing. A few moments' walk brought us to the last house in the village ; and perched on a huge bowlder we looked off to the mountains stretching up against the blue. From our feet a velvety green slope, studded with golden dandelions, stretched down, down to a meadow, with houses which looked like bird- houses ; and where a river glides like a thread of silver spun from some fairy spinner's distaff. Then a fringe of dark green pines, then an orchard, white with bloom ; then hop-fields on the hillsides ; higher still the village of Milford, looking like a collection of baby-houses nestling on a terrace cut in the mountain side ; higher still, the grand, eternal hills, their summits tip- ped with fleecy cloudlets. The roadside was bordered with fragrant sugar bush, and saucy blue violets peeped at us at every step ; while the air — oh, I can 't describe that. It is full of vigor, and must be inhaled to be appreciated.
How we slept that night ! '"Mother," said Maude, " I feel this morning as though I had never been tired in my life."
Next morning we hired a trusty horse, and over roads bordered with all kinds of trees and shrubs, through an atmosphere full of the subtle fra- grance of spring, we drove slowly to Purgatory. We have always been taught that the road to Purgatory is easy, but it is n't. We tied our horse at the top of the hill which -leads
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