As by the elms that line its street, the hills that watch its roofs, Lyme, Conn., is sentineled by artistic good usage, fortressed by aesthetic tradition. Last week in Lyme a plume of goldenrod was seen, which would have informed all but an outsider that an Art exhibit was in progress—for each year Art comes to Lyme with the goldenrod. This year, the exhibition satisfied all demands by being up to the standard of those in the past; to have made it noticeably better would have seemed to the natives a bit vulgar;...
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