‘Certainly; that is just the season.’
‘Crazy! You were there in the summer——’
‘I know it; every one goes there in summer. I must see them now. There’s no time like it; in their drapery of snow and ice; in the sternness and solitude, the wild grandeur of winter!’
‘How you run on! You’ll miss the cars at Utica.’
‘I don’t care.’
‘You’ll be a day later in New-York.’
‘I don’t care. I must see them in their hoary head.’
‘You wish to see if they look as well in gray hairs as I do, perhaps.’
‘Yes.’
‘You really must go?’