“To Seventh street north, and out by that road to the suburbs of the city.”
The coachman re-mounted his box and started his horses once more. They crossed the canal bridge near the centre-market, and crossed Pennsylvania Avenue, and as they went on, Alexander pointed out to his companion, all the objects of interest within the range of their vision—a nearer view of the Capitol, then the General Post-Office, the National Patent Office, etc.
A half hour’s drive up Seventh street north, took them beyond the limits of the city, and into the wild, picturesque and beautiful suburbs.
The wilderness surroundings of our National Capitol have often been admired by strangers who are lovers of nature, and reproached by others who can see no beauty in anything but miles of brick walls and busy shops, or acres of ploughed fields and growing crops. We “to the manor born,” love the wild woods and rocks and waterfalls so near, as to be even within the limits of our city. A half hour’s drive from the Capitol in any direction will take the traveller into solitudes as deep as he can find anywhere west of the Alleghanies.
A half hour’s drive up Seventh street north took our happy pair quite into what seemed a country road.
It was bordered on the western side by evergreen woods, through which the last rays of the setting sun were shining and tipping every dark-hued leaf and twig with golden fire; and on the north by groves and fields and streams, with here and there a solitary, but cheerful cottage from whose windows the “household fires gleamed warm and bright.”
Presently, Alexander pulled the check-string and ordered the driver to turn into an obscure road or lane, leading into the cedar wood on the left.
“You have never asked me where I am taking you to, my darling,” said Alexander, when they had gone about a quarter of a mile into the woods.
“No; because my trust in you is so perfect.”
“Had you no curiosity?”