inking behind the hills, they
entered the beautiful river interval, through which the road to their new
home lay. Mercy sat with her face almost pressed against the panes of the
car-windows, eagerly scanning every feature of the landscape, to her so
new and wonderful. To the dweller by the sea, the first sight of mountains
is like the sight of a new heavens and a new earth. It is a revelation of
a new life. Mercy felt strangely stirred and overawed. She looked around
in astonishment at her fellow-passengers, not one of whom apparently
observed that on either hand were stretching away to the east and the west
fields that were, even in this late autumn, like carpets of gold and
green. Through these fertile meadows ran a majestic river, curving and
doubling as if loath to leave such fair shores. The wooded mountains
changed fast from green to purple, from purple to dark gray; and almost
before Mercy had comprehended the beauty of the region, it was lost from
her sight, veiled in the twilight's pale, indistinguishable tints. Her
mother was fast asleep in her seat. The train stopped every few moments at
some insignificant station, of which Mercy could see nothing but a narrow
platform, a dim lantern, and a sleepy-looking station-master. Slowly, one
or two at a time, the passengers disappeared, until she and her mother
were left alone in the car. The conductor and the brakeman, as they passed
through, looked at them with renewed interest: it was evident now that
they were going through to the terminus of the road.

"Goin' through, be ye?" said the conductor. "It'll be dark when we get in;
an' it's beginnin' to rain. 'S anybody comin' to meet ye?"

"No," said Mercy, uneasily. "Will there not be carriages at the depot? We
are going to the hotel. I believe there is but one."

"Well, there may be a kerridge down to-night, an' there may not: there's
no knowin'. Ef it don't rain too hard, I reckon Seth'll be down."

Mercy's sense of humor never failed her. She laughed heartily, as she
said,--

"Then Seth stays away, does he, on the nights when he would be sure of
passengers?"

The conductor laughed too, as he replied,---

"Well, 'tisn't quite so bad's that. Ye see this here road's only a piece
of a road. It's goin' up through to connect with the northern roads; but
they 've come to a stand-still for want o' funds, an' more 'n half the
time I don't carry nobody over this last ten miles. Most o' the people
from our town go the