I learn’d, as walking slowly by their side
I heard their conversation. Often she—
“Brother, is this the country that I see?”
The bricks were smoking and the ground was broke,
There were no signs of verdure when she spoke.
He, as the well-inform’d delight in chiding
The ignorant, these questions still deriding,
To his good judgment modestly she yields;
Till, brick-kilns past, they reach’d the open fields.
Then, as with rapturous wonder round she gazes