Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1880-09-17
OUR BOSTON LETTER.
PARADISE, Sept o, 1880

1t has another name, but this is the one
frequonters like best to call il so let it stand
as it Is written. Besides, it is not large
place, aud would not hold half the people who
would wish to come to il did they know where
1t was and how to get to it. 1t is not particu
larly easy of access the road is narrow, and
crooked and stony, but who cares for that
when the destination is 80 lovely? In this case
the end justifes the MEANS and one forgets
all the jaunting and shaking up, and occa-
sional unpleasant encounters with tipsy trav-
ellers, when, on reaching the brow of Para
disc hill, the most glorious view bursts upon
the Rsonished vision TO all intents and pur-
poses after leaving the fiat salt marshes with
their overflow of tide water, you turn into
wild inland country and ride through an elm
shaded lane with broad, swelling fields on
either side, in which herds of cattle are peace
fully grazing-a perfect rural scene-until, as
you make the last rise on the hill road, the
ocean lies out Mt your very feet, while in the
near distance is the island where the Boston
light is stationed, and farther away are the
grey sandod shores of Nantasket 1t lisa per
petual delight TO the dwelers on the hilltop,
N''ll VII u Nbld blug Ntly llht llllh Nutu At lut
foot Of the green, sloping lawn the northeast
wind drives in the curling, snow-tippcd break
ers. Sky and water are grey alike; even the
green of the grass takes on n duller tint, and
the leaves of the woodbine, that under the
blaze of the September sun glow with an in
tensity born of the dying summers warmth,
show the ashen hue of death. Yet there is
fascination even in all this, and one thinks
with regret of the inevitable goodbye that
must be spoken soon for only those to the
manor born can stay through the winter
months in this Paradise. Yet now with the
northeast storm raging outside, and n cheer
ful wood fire burning in an open fire. place
within, diffusing luxurious warmth and glow.
feel that l would brave the keenest north.
wester that ever swept over the desolate marsh
or the most binding storm of hail and snow
that ever veiled the harbor lights from view
If only might linger on through uncounted
months. l shall be carly at the gate Of Para
disc when spring comes again, and an entrance
shall be made for me. There is one serious
drawback, however, to life here while Para
disc is delightful place to tarry in to rest the
body and feed the soul it is bad place to
write letters from. You can't come down to
the routine work it requires you can dream
and aspire and resolve but you must 60 else
where to do. The days pass in dream of
delight; you live in an ecstasy, mental, phys
ical and moral, and you dread to have the
spell broken.
We have had visitors in Paradise that
have added a glory to the place and made
it more of pleasure to remember Re
menyi came-'the wizard of the violin :"
the Hungarian who came to our shores last
year, only TO carry captive at his bow.
Fresh, frank and full of quaint whimsicalities,
he is always new. 1t was worth a good deal
10 see lin away from an audience to hear
him play as he walked up and down the long
drawing room, happy in his own music to
see him pat his violin as it gave out some ex-
quisite tone, and catch the tender look lie
gave it, AS full OF affection as that the young
lover bestows on the mistress of his heart
when
Love and he are Young together"
The golden harps" are no myth at least in
oar resort for happy souls. Pierre Erard
made one as a wedding gift to Josephine Chat
terton, the famous English harpist, when she
became Madame Bohrer and it has given us
great delight as We gathered around the fasci-
mating player and listened to the weird, won
derful music she drew from it. and to the sto.
rics and traditions She told regarding it,
never knew the power nor the possibility Of
the harp before, but | wonder now that it is
not more studied and played. l don't think
any one realizes what it is until he hears
Madame Chattcrton- Bohrer play upon it. Mr..
William H. Sayward has been here, too rest
ing and preparing for II winter of work, aud
Miss Mary Cary has drawn inspiration from
the sea. There is a charming little brown
cottage nestled down under the elms near the
shore quaint little place devoted to the &C.
MUS of Household Art. Here Mr.. Clements,
the graceful critic of the Transcript and his
lovely wife and sturdy boys, make summer
holiday.
We are circled by the city lights we are
only short run from City Point Boston
light flashes in at our windows all night, and
the electric lights at Nantask6t and Strawb berry
Hill make brightness for us we see the state
ly ships sail in and out, we are reused by the
sunrise gun from Fort Warren; and yet we
are three miles from the railway, and natives
won't sell cream because it spoiIs the milk to
skim it, Don't you wish you were in Para
disc p SALLm JOY WHITE