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Mark. She is intending to leave for down-town this week. We shall be sorry to have her go. Miss Worcester, Fred, Myra, and I went last Sunday, to the woods. We had a delightful time. The day could not have been finer. We started out about nine in the morning and the air, purified by the shower of the night before, was simply delicious. 

A long walk down New Jersey Avenue and we found the streetcar. Electricity took us out of the city in a short time. We passed lovely country residences, meadows and groves, and at last landed on Glen Horn Cemetery.

Our avowed purpose in going was to find arbutus but the modest little blue flowers that we found, we did not slight. And indeed, we have since learned to prize these much. For the few little scrubby arbutus we did find took more trouble than they gave pleasure. Believe I'll take that back for their odor was very sweet. We found a queer, but sweet little pansy growing out there. Fred gave a great shout when he found the first one, and carefully took up the roots and clinging dirt. Thereafter, we treated all we found in the same royal manner, often having lively races for them, until they became plentiful, when, as a matter of course, we trampled them under our feet. 

We read in the "Chronicle" last evening that Clint Haisley and Cora Cox had