But while we laugh at Saratoga, its dancing, dressing and flirtation, it is yet not without its lessons for an observing eye.

"Here the heart
May give a useful lesson to the head,
And Learning wiser grow without his books."

It is not all frivolity. Like every aspect of life, and like most persons, it is a hint and suggestion of something high and poetic. It is an oasis of repose in the desert of our American hurry. It is a perpetual festival.

Here we step out of the worn and weary ruts of city society, and mingle in a broad field of varied acquaintance. Here we may scent the fairest flowers of the South, and behold the beauty of our Northern climes. Here party distinctions and local rivalries are forgotten. Here, too, men mingle and learn from contact and sympathy, a sweeter temper and a more catholic consideration, so that the summer flower we went to wreath may prove not the garland of an hour, but a firmly linked chain in our American Union.