"It doesn't bear the head of Socrates," said Charlton.
" 'Hast no philosophy in thee,' Charlton?" said Fleda, laughing back at him.
"Has not Queechy a the honour of your approbation, Captain
Rossitur?" said the doctor.
"Certainly, Sir; I have no doubt of its being a very fine country."
"Only he has imbibed some doubts whether happiness be an indigenous crop," said Thorn.
"Undoubtedly," said the doctor, blandly; "to one who has roamed over the plains of Mexico, Queechy must seem rather a a rather flat place."
"If he could lose sight of the hills," said Thorn.
"Undoubtedly, Sir, undoubtedly," said the doctor; "they are a marked feature in the landscape, and do much to relieve a the charge of sameness."
"Luckily," said Mr. Olmney, smiling, "happiness is not a thing of circumstance; it depends on a man's self."
"I used to think so," said Thorn; "that is what I have always subscribed to; but I am afraid I could not live in this region and find it so long."