“How very beautiful the foliage is on that point, mother,” said Alfred, first breaking the silence, “what a contrast between the leaves of the sycamore, so transparent and yellow, with the sun behind them, and the new shoots of the spruce fir.”
“It is indeed very lovely,” replied Mrs Campbell; “and the branches of the trees, feathering down as they do to the surface of the water—”
“Like good Samaritans,” said Emma, “extending their arms, that any unfortunate drowning person who was swept away by the stream might save himself by their assistance.”
“I had no idea that trees had so much charity or reflection, Emma,” rejoined Alfred.
“I cannot answer for their charity, but, by the side of this clear water, you must allow them reflection, cousin,” replied Emma.
“I presume you will add vanity to their attributes?” answered Alfred; “for they certainly appear to be hanging over the stream that they may look and admire themselves in the glassy mirror.”
“Pretty well that for a midshipman; I was not aware that they use such choice language in a cockpit,” retorted the young lady.
“Perhaps not, cousin,” answered Alfred; “but when sailors are in the company of ladies, they become refined, from the association.”
“Well, I must admit, Alfred, that you are a great deal more polished after you have been a month on shore.”
“Thank you, cousin Emma, even for that slight admission,” replied Alfred laughing.