In the meantime Mr. Dudley having accepted a seat in an open wagon by the side of a good-natured looking farmer, began to gaze about him. On every side the most picturesque views met his eye;—the majestic river white with sails, varied now and then by a huge iron chimney, puffing and belching forth its smoke, rolled calmly on its course to the sea. The high bluffs, a continuation of the Highlands, rising, and breaking against the sky;—the pretty villas dotting the banks of the river;—the patches of cultivated land varied by the richest green sward; each in turn rivetted his attention, and called forth an exclamation of delight.
"I reckon you're a stranger in these parts," the countryman said, after having surveyed his companion from head to foot.
"Yes."
"Going to stop a spell?"
"Uncertain, how long."
"Going to Rose Cottage, hey? Wall I hope Hannah Goldby knows she's going to have visitors."
Paul's curiosity was roused and overlooking the familiarity of the driver, which a moment before had excited his disgust, he asked with a smile:
"Is a visitor at Rose Cottage a very uncommon event?"
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the man, leaning back to enjoy the joke. "Uncommon? ha! ha! ha! why there hasn't been a visitor at Rose Cottage, to my knowledge, since the young man went off to college better'n a year ago. Hannah wont have 'em." He shook his head in a mysterious manner, conveying the idea that he could tell strange things if he had a mind.
Paul mentally resolved that his stay should be very brief. After a pause he remarked: