Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from The Butterfly House
Bridges there were none, except those over which the trains thundered to and from New York, and the adjective, except to old inhabi tants who had a curious fierce loyalty for the place, did not seemingly apply. Fairbridge could hardly, by an unbiassed person who did not dwell in the little village and View its fea tures through the rosy glamour of home life, be called fair. There were a few pretty streets, with well-kept sidewalks, and ambi tious, although small houses, and there weremany lovely bits of views to be obtained, espe cially in the green ?ush of spring, and the red glow of autumn over the softly swelling New Jersey landscape with its warm red soil to the distant rise of low blue hills; but it was not fair enough in a general way to justify its name. Yet Fairbridge it was, without bridge, or nat ural beauty, and no mortal knew why. The origin of the name was lost in the petty mist of a petty past.
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