I was about to speak of the Boston smells. They are very varied—some clean, but mostly dirty. You go a little way, and in addition to all the queer suggestions of the pavement and gutter, you get a puff of sewer gas. You go a little further, and get another. Here in the country there is a different class of smells. When Mary spoke to me it was apple-blossom mixed with wild flower perfume and coming in great waves of warm air. I was almost intoxicated, so much so that I closed my eyes, and gave myself up to the pleasure of smell. Oh, the delicious country! Why do not cats and people forsake the cities?
I had a dream of bringing all the Boston cats to Black River Valley, then curiosity made me open my eyes.
We were passing by scattering houses with small orchards about them. Then turning a corner, we found ourselves in a small village.
Nobody spoke. It was lovely to look down that quiet village street in this June sunlight, to see the pretty white houses half hidden in shade trees, or in the exquisite pink and white blossoms of apple trees. There was just one store in the village. A buggy stood in front of it, and the old horse attached to it was meditatively chewing the top from his hitching post, and did not even glance at us as we went by. I saw one or two faces at the windows, but there was no noise. No one seemed to wish to disturb the beautiful stillness of the village, and we drove through it without a word being spoken.
After we left it and were going down a hill to an iron bridge over a small river, Mr. Denville said quietly, “This is old Black River Village—not a very lively place since the railway came, and persons began to build about the station.”
“Oh, look at Mona!” said Mary suddenly.
The good old dog who had been following the carriage with Dolly close beside her, had plunged down the steep bank of the river, and rustling among the tall grasses and rushes, lapped eagerly at the water.
“She is almost overcome with the warmth of that thick coat of hers,” remarked Mrs. Denville. “We must have her hair cut off before the really warm weather comes.”
“Why, she is going to swim the river!” exclaimed Mary. “Just look at her!”
The river was not a very wide one, and she went boldly through it, with little, bedraggled Dolly paddling behind.