perhaps seem so to a Newfoundlander; but to us the climate is a daily
source of remark, of wonder and delight. It is balmy, yet bracing; and
though there may be times when at midday it is decidedly warm,--as
summer should be,--the nights are always cool, and we live in flannel
costumes and luxuriate.

Warner speaks of "these northeastern lands which the Gulf Stream pets
and tempers"; yet he passed through this dear old town without stopping,
remarking only that he could not be content for a week here, and felt no
interest in the place apart from its historic associations. Let him stop
next time and investigate. We flatter ourselves that we could enlighten
him somewhat.

Our friends at various shore and mountain resorts report constant fogs;
yet we can testify that in nearly seven weeks' residence here there were
but two mornings which were foggy, and on those days the gray screen was
rolled away at noon.

"aloft on the mountains
Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the mighty Atlantic
Looked on the happy valley, but ne'er from their station descended"

That singular feature spoken of in Longfellow's poem is shown here: the
mists rise from the Bay and rest lovingly, caressingly, on the crests of
the long range of mountains, giving them the appearance of comfortable
warmth under this downy coverlet on cool nights; but this fleece very
rarely descends to the valley.

Dr. O. W. Holmes must have had such a place as this in mind when he
said:--