Norman’s thoughts went beyond Broadway and its contrast.
No. 666.
NEW YORK CITY
“I have actually set out on my journey to the West to see my uncle, a journey I have been thinking of for two or three years. How I wish you were going with us, Edward,” he said to his tall cousin, whose manliness Norman greatly admired.
“You are to be your mother’s escort to-day, Norman,” replied Edward; “I hope you will take good care of her. You are tall enough to make quite a respectable escort, but I have my doubts as to your care and thoughtfulness. I think you are rather a heedless boy, but I hope you will come back greatly improved.”
“There is no saying,” said Norman, “what this journey may do for me.”
“We shall see; but here we are at the depôt,” was Edward’s reply.
The ferry was crossed, some oranges bought to quiet the noisy demands of the orange woman, seats secured, good-by said to Edward, and Norman and his mother were fairly off for a few days ride on the Erie Railroad to Niagara.
How that terrible, untiring iron horse bore them on; how rapidly was the panorama of wood and plain, of rock, river, and valley, unrolled before them; how he snorted and panted, and shot onward, after a short pause now and then to refresh the mighty giant.
“A little water, and a grasp