SUMMER MEMORIES. PART I-LONG BRANCH. CHAPTER I. SUMMER LONGINGS. "Ah! my heart is sick with longing,— Longing to escape from study To the young face fair and ruddy Ah! my heart is sick with longing, LINDA MANSFIELD and her friend Julia Budd, left the school-room in street, and walked homeward with languid steps. The pavement was hot, the trees were covered with dust, and the little air that stirred the leaves appeared to have passed through a burning oven. Notwithstanding the heat and dust Julia talked merrily; for she was to go to the country on the next day. She described her rural home to Linda, who wished that she too could leave the din and dust of the city for the shade and silence of country life. She bade Julia good-by at the usual parting-place in Union Square, and in a few minutes was at her own door. When she entered the house, Linda's mother met her with a letter in her hand, and said, "A letter from Aunt Lizzie, my dear. She, Carrie, and Edward, with his friend Charles, are to be here to-morrow, on their way to Long Branch." O, how many Long Branch! visions of beauty did that name bring before Linda's mind! "O, mother, if we could only go with them!" said Linda. She was indeed to go. The arrangement had been hastily made with Linda's father while she was at school. Aunt Lizzie would wait for them one day; and then Linda and her mother would accompany them to the seaside. Linda was overjoyed. With hearty good will she assisted her mother in packing, for her elder sister was in Connecticut. Linda was glad that she could in some measure supply her place. She had little idea, however, of the dimensions or capabilities of a trunk. She brought arms full of books from the library to be packed. "I have not room for half of them, my dear," said her mother. "Besides, you will not read much. I wish you to bathe and walk a great deal while we are at Long Branch; and shall not allow you to spend your time in poring over books." A few choice books were, however, selected. They were such as Linda could read over many times; such as would interest without entirely absorbing her. When Linda read a story-book she was apt to become so entirely engrossed that it was difficult to draw her from it. In this way she sometimes neglected duties that should have been performed. CHAPTER II. THE SEASIDE. "While through my being seems to flow The breath of a new life, the healing of the seas.' JULY 7th, 18—, found Linda and her friends on board a steamer bound for Long Branch. This is a peninsular beach on the Atlantic, about thirty miles from New-York. It was a fresh, bright morning; and Linda and Carrie felt like birds released from prison. They walked the deck, and drank in refreshment and strength with the joyous breeze that waved their curls and painted their cheeks. They cast admiring looks at Staten Island, the brightest gem of our beautiful bay; and thought what cozy homes its pretty cottages must make. They wondered what kind |