The boat passed the lock, steamed on her way, and soon left the Chain Bridge behind.
They were now coming into a wild, romantic, and beautiful region of country.
On the north side of the canal arose the lofty, dark gray rocks, like pallisades, from every crevice of which grew the hardy evergreen, or sprang the bright mountain rill. Along the foot of this rocky precipice, at equal distances, nestled the picturesque huts of the pickets, each hut built of rough logs, with the bark on, and thatched with evergreen boughs of fir, pine or cedar, and having in front its little camp-fire, and its group of three or four soldiers.
As the little steamboat glided past these stations, the picnickers cheered these picket guards, and pelted them well with apples, oranges, cocoa nuts, poundcakes, and packets of newspapers.
And the pickets in return cheered them, and threw into their boat hares, quails, and partridges, that they had killed in that country, so abounding in game.
All this was on the right hand of the way, and north side of the canal.
On the opposite, or south side, and divided from it only by the narrow tow path, rolled the broad river, and beyond that arose the wooded hills of Virginia, now gorgeous in the variegated hues of autumn foliage.
“I think this is the most delightful season for a picnic excursion of this sort, for really the summer is as much too hot as the winter is too cold for an outdoor party of pleasure. What do you think, Mr. Billingcoo?” inquired Elfie of the exquisite, who was standing by her side, as she gazed on the beautiful scenery, and basked in the genial sunshine.
“I think you are quite wight, Mith Fielding, and I quite agwee with you. It ith a gweat pity Mith Wothenthal could not be induthed to join uth.”
“Isn’t it now! And she would have prevented me from coming if she could have done so! The idea of any one imagining danger in this excursion! I wonder where the danger is to come from! Here is a line of picket guards on one side of us and the river on the other. I should like to know how the guerrillas, even if they were in the neighborhood, could pass either. I wish they would for my part! I should enjoy a smart skirmish with Monck and his men! Heigh-ho! there is no such good luck. Our picnic excursion is going to be just as tame a party of pleasure as though we were in the pipinest times of peace. I tell you, Mr. Billingcoo, as far as my experience goes, this war’s a sell, like most other things in life.”