"Did you ever observe this fellow that I'm riding? Do you see how long and straight he is in the back? Well, that's the Arab blood that's in him. His grandfather was a superb Arab, that the Pacha of Egypt gave my uncle when he was travelling there;" and he proceeded to dilate at large on the merits and pedigree of his horse, the truth being that he and his ancestry before him had been born and bred in the State of Vermont. Morton listened with civil incredulity, and wished his companion at the antipodes.
"Ah, there's my cousin's house," exclaimed Wren, pointing to a very pretty cottage and grounds which they were approaching—"Mary Holyoke, you know—Mary Everard that was some three months ago. What a delightful retreat for the honeymoon!"
"Very," said Morton.
"Stop there with me, will you? I'm going in for a few minutes, to wish them a pleasant journey. They are going to Niagara to-morrow."
"Thank you, I believe I won't stop."
"As you please, my dear fellow. I think they are quite right to travel now; it's a better season than the spring; and a honeymoon journey, after all, isn't all romance, you know. Besides, they are going to have a charming companion—Miss Leslie."
"I thought that she had just lost her mother-in-law."
"That's the very thing. She's almost ill with watching night after night; so Mary,—they used to be friends at school,—has been very anxious that she should make the journey with them, for a change of scene, you know,—and Colonel Leslie has persuaded her to go."
"When will they leave town?"
"To-morrow. They mean to spend a few days at Trenton, and then go to the Falls. But here we are; won't you change your mind, and come in?"