horrible lion-hunter, who tormented us with talk, albums, the desire for autographs and subscriptions and so on, and persecuted us even to our carriage, whither we had betaken ourselves, calling after Mr. Bancroft to know where he lived. “Drive, drive!” cried we, laughing, and so drove as fast as we could to the so-called “High Bridge,” where a glorious natural scene met our eyes. Yes, the scenery of this new world seems to me rich and beautiful; if one could only see it in peace, and with time for reflection! But here, in the neighbourhood of New York, people seem obliged every moment to turn their heads or their attention to the Croton Aqueduct, which conveys water from Croton to New York, a magnificent and excellent work, invaluable to the great city; but which gave me a deal of trouble! But now to proceed on our drive. Our hostess talked and laughed and joked the whole time in her overflowing animation and merriment. The carriage jumped over stock and stone along the bad road, like a leaping calf. I sat silent and patient, out of sheer fatigue. Thus drove we round the country and shore, and at length back to dinner, to see company, write autographs, and so on; then drove at full gallop to New York, where the Downings were to meet me, and a great party at Miss Lynch's. To this house on the Hudson also, and to this lady did I promise to return next summer, to go with her to her father's large farm, where she was brought up, and where her father and sisters still lived. Yes, we were to do a deal together. But ah! the exuberantly ardent lady, who I think might prevent the Hudson from freezing, I feel myself like a feeble fly beside her, and cannot but remember the story of “Le pot de fer et le pot de terre”
The Downings were already in Miss Lynch's parlour when I arrived. I was so glad to see them, and to be able to pour out my heart to them in full freedom, that all at
