field, Mount Tom, Northampton, Old Hadley, Amherst, and Deerfield. The return trip, or a separate journey, might be made by going to Williamstown from Greenfield by rail, and then coming south by trolley through the Berkshires to Great Barrington, with stops for walks and perhaps drives at such famous and attractive places as Lenox, Stockbridge, Lee, and Pittsfield. Another enjoyable summer trip in New England is from Boston to York Beach, going by rail to Lynn for the start and allowing time for leisurely seeing Marblehead, Salem, Gloucester, Cape Ann, and Portsmouth. Boston, indeed, is a splendid center for trolley travelers. The rides to Newport, to Lexington and Concord, and to the Blue Hills Reservation, are only three of many that might be named. In New York State the ride from Albany to Lake George, by way of Saratoga, is well worth taking. From South Norwalk to New Haven is another pleasant short trip. In the Middle West, where trolley organization has been carefully worked out, and where they have even experimented with trolley dining and sleeping cars, there are abundant possibilities. In short, for those who like to be outdoors and to move from place to place, but who find walking too tedious, the railway too noisy and smoky, and the automobile too expensive or dangerous, there are many genuine pleasures to be had in the right kind of trolley-tripping.

Even in foreign lands the electric car is coming to be of benefit to the tourist

who wants to get a little closer to the country than he is in the railway car. It is well worth while, nowadays, in traveling abroad, to keep an eye on possible delightful short trips of this kind, however incongruous the method of conveyance may seem with hoary ruins or monuments of antiquity. While satisfying runs are as yet rather rare in Europe, they may be found in Germany and Holland, and occasionally in England.

Some one has said that the trolley-car is the old stage-coach adapted to the modern spirit. It certainly has the "get there" element a little too strongly emphasized for the leisurely lover of out-ofdoors; but, on the other hand, it offers unexampled chances to study human nature, as one watches the constantly shifting group of people getting on and off, discussing local affairs, presenting local characteristics, and often enacting little social comedies or indulging in neighborhood gossip. The Spectator once described the right kind of trolleying, in The Outlook, in these words: "It is evident that it is not the jumping, jolting, bumping, thun.ping trolley-car of the city streets that the Spectator has in mind when he applies the word charm to a trolley-car. to a trolley-car. It is the swinging, swaying car, running with musical hum and pleasant rumble through woods and meadows, over streams, amid tumbling stone fences and tangles of bushes, with wild-flower gardens sloping down to the edge of sluggish streams in which the cows stand in drowsy content."

safe by the shy wood-folk, and soon I was gloating over thirteen-lucky thirteen!-of these rare and dainty ladies' slippers, all in complete view from where I had first stepped into their boudoir ! With this in mind, and after a little careful transplanting then reverently undertaken, there was something for all of us to look forward to last Memorial Day, which the family had decided to spend as a foretaste of our summer in the woods. We suspected that there would be things well worth seeing, even before the glory of laurel and rhododendron which precedes the comparatively bloomless midsummer of our vacation time.

There were fern hints all the way up the mountain narrow-gauge railroad, and suspicions of flowers back in the woods. When the "train "-it was mostly flat lumber-cars, and we were joyously riding, very much "outside," on a pile of boxes upon one of them-stopped to switch off some cars, there was the first flower happening of the day.

It was a mass of soft white, almost at the edge of the rail, and with such a dainty irregularity of outline as to seem like foam. "Foam-flower," I shouted,

and jumped from the car, breathlessly breaking out my camera and tripod. "What a proper name for it!" came from the Madame; to which I made answer, "Yes; but the botanical name, Tiarella, just fits it, too."

It was a good beginning, and I knew flower events were impending. So, when we turned in to " Bide-a-Wee," two of us, in mind of the long-loved bit of deep primeval forest which is there our limitless "back yard," hastened to the rear of the premises. A shout brought all the family, for there was a show for us of the forest jewels, crowding right up to the very door! Against the mossy old hemlock log that we had refused to have "cleared away" there gleamed, richly pink-crimson in the morning sun, a half-dozen or more of the moccasinflowers. Delicately green unfolding fern fronds separated them, and here were also a white trillium, some bits of tiarella, and the fine little star-flower. Above, the yellow-greens of the young birch and beech leaves shaded into the more distant and deeper hues of the hemlocks which make majestic and noble this mountain forest.

I suppose the literary angler, who does