THE LAKE-SHORE DRIVE.
“Mr. Douglass,” said Philip, “I don’t know how you feel, but my feet are as cold as ice, and I’d rather get off and walk.”
“Oh, let’s walk!” Harry chimed in. “I’d rather ride in a canal-boat than to stay in this old coach any more.”
“So would I,” said Mr. Douglass. “I consider this ride a regular swindle. See here!” he went on, turning to the driver’s accomplice,—a young man who rode inside,—“what is the matter with this conveyance? We’ve crept all the way out. Are you going any faster?”
“No, sir,” answered the young man, turning State’s evidence and revealing the whole secret; “the fact is, those horses—look at ’em!—are all played out. They’ve been going over this road for months, and they’re played out.”
“We have had enough of it,” said the tutor, a little sharply, “and we’ll walk.”
“I don’t blame you,” the young man answered, as if he would have liked to join them.
VIEW ON MICHIGAN AVENUE, CHICAGO.