NEW YORK is at its very brightest and best in October.

This month of the year may be safely trusted not to disappoint.

The skies are blue, the air balmy, and there is generally a delightful absence of wind.

The summer exiles are home again from Jersey boarding houses, and mountain camps, and seaside hotels, and thankful to the point of hilarity that this episode of the year is over, that they can once more dwell under their own roofs without breaking any of the manifest laws of the great goddess Custom or Fashion.
Judge Rawdon's house had an especially charming "at home" appearance.
During the absence of the family it had been made beautiful inside and outside, and the white stone, the plate glass, and falling lace evident to the street, had an almost conscious look of luxurious propriety.
The Judge frankly admitted his pleasure in his home surroundings.

He said, as they ate their first meal in the familiar room, that "a visit to foreign countries was a grand, patriotic tonic." He vowed that the "first sight of the Stars and Stripes at Sandy Hook had given him the finest emotion he had ever felt in his life," and was altogether in his proudest American mood.