“None whatever. Nature seems to have been out of the article when she formed me,” answered Elfie.
“Oh, do, Mr. Billingcoo, sing another sweet thing like that!” pleaded a poetical young lady.
“And do, Mr. Billingcoo!” chimed in a chorus of others.
And the troubadour suffered himself to be entreated and sang lispingly several other “sweet things,” to the accompaniment of his guitar—all of which the young ladies warmly applauded.
So glided away the glorious Indian Summer afternoon; and as the sun was sinking to his splendid setting, the steamer neared the Point of Rocks.
“We had better stop here. This is a more convenient place to land and dine than we could find without going on some distance above the Point. And besides it is really growing late,” said Mr. Allison.
The company eagerly assented to the plan, and the boat was stopped where the canal passed under the shadow of a great precipice crowned with pine woods.
“If we can get to the top of this rock, there is a fine table land well protected from the wind, which I find is rising, and well shaded from the sun by pine trees, and also commanding one of the most magnificent panoramic prospects in the country. That table land will be an excellent place to dine,” exclaimed Mr. Allison, while he and his friends were getting ready to leave the boat.
They found a way to the top of the steep; and the gentlemen climbed carefully, helping the ladies up along with them.
Their attendants followed with the hampers of provisions.