"Now, George, turn to the east and see how kindly the sun has removed the
mist and made for us a glorious day. How bright the colors in our flag
that floats over the high school yonder! There stands the Soldiers'
Memorial Hall, the Edwards Church with graceful spire, and across the
green meadows, with its winding stream of silver, rise the ranges of Mt.
Tom and Mt. Holyoke, outlined in curves against the blue sky."
"Beautiful!" responded George, "and yet, Gertrude, nothing in nature is
half so lovely as your own dear self." Without warning he kissed her rosy
cheek, her whole face changing to crimson as she said, "George, we must
be going."
Two happy young souls drove away from Smith College out under the Gothic
elms, where the birds were mating and building their nests. The plan for
the day was to drive to the mountain, and follow the mother and sister on
the evening express to New York. The hotel clerk had pointed out the best
road to Mt. Holyoke, and following his directions they drove southeast,
leaving behind them shady Northampton, Smith College, and delightful
memories of Jonathan Edwards, George Bancroft, and others.
A single white parasol was quite enough to protect two lovers from the
sun's rays.
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