Charlotte in New York Read Online Free PDF

about that.”

    the sailboat pond
    When we got to the carriage, Monsieur Durand-Ruel told the driver to take us to Central Park. I was surprised—I thought we were on our way to the river for a sail! The carriage stopped by a little pond with toy sailboats on it. All at once, I saw Hippolyte with a long stick, lining up a sailboat for the start of a race. “So this is the boat they keep in New York,” I thought to myself. All at once, the boats’ sails filled with wind, someone shouted, “They’re off!” and Hippolyte waved to me.
    After the race, I told Hippolyte I can sail a real sailboat. Even at night. I know how to find my way by the stars. Papa taught me at Appledore Island. When I asked if I could sail his boat, Hippolyte said girls aren’t allowed—the yacht club is for men only. I must have looked disappointed. “Allons-y,”—Let’s go—he said, and led me to a big lake with rowboats for rent.
    Hippolyte says even the lakes and ponds in Central Park are man-made. There was nothing here but swampy land until Mr. Calvert Vaux and Mr. Frederick Law Olmsted designed meadows, gardens and woodlands with roads, tunnels and bridges. It took 3,600 men to build it all!
    Now we’re letting the boat drift while Hippolyte looks for fish. All the rowboats are named after flowers. Ours is called Violet. I wish this day would never end. . . .

July 20, 1894
    24 Fifth Avenue
New York
    Raymonde says, “Il fait chaud, chaud, chaud,” and it is hot, hot, hot. When I got to the studio today, Papa was painting in his underwear. He told me he was painting from memory. “Thinking of cooler climes,” he added. When I asked what that meant, he turned the canvas toward me. It was Marie Poupée and her dog Limouzin. Papa was remembering the cool sea air in Le Pouldu and how Limouzin would run to greet everyone who came to stay at the inn under the pines. All at once, Papa put his paintbrush down. “Enough of this heat,” he said. “Appledore Island, here we come!”

    I ran home to tell Mama and Raymonde, and when I got there, I found a postcard waiting for me. From Lizzy. From Appledore!

    On the back it says:
Windswept cottage, Appledore Island.
Everybody misses you. Me most of all! When are you coming?
Love, Lizzy

    There isn’t time to write her back. She’ll be so surprised to see me!
    When I told Hippolyte we were going to Appledore, he said he and Monsieur Durand-Ruel were off to San Francisco. Then he pulled an egg from his pocket. “It’s so hot,” he said, “I can fry this on the sidewalk.” An he did! We put the egg on a plate to cool, and Toby gobbled it up. I have so much to tell Lizzy. . . .

August 1, 1894
    Appledore Island
The Isles of Shoals
    I’m so happy to be back in Appledore! To get here, we had to take a train from New York to Boston, then another from Boston to Portsmouth, New Hampshire. When we stepped from the train at Portsmouth harbor, a gust of wind came up and blew our hats into the water. We didn’t mind—we could smell salt air and hear gulls screeching overhead. And see the steamboat Pinafore waiting to take us out to Appledore.

    When we got to our cottage, Raymonde opened the shutters and windows and let the sunshine in. We haven’t been here for two years, but everything looks just the same. Toby and I raced to the Fosters’. He got there first and leapt into Lizzy’s arms. She was so glad to see us!
    Tonight we went to Appledore House for dinner. Everyone was there, including the poet Mrs. Celia Thaxter with her houseguests. She always has lots of those—artists, other poets and musicians, mostly. Raymonde said the clam chowder was “beau et bon”—beautiful to look at and good to eat. Then she disappeared into the kitchen and came out with the recipe for the chowder and the peach crisp!
    After dinner, we sat by the fire and