ent up by the Connecticut river. The road lay
along upon the bank of the river, and the scenery was very pleasant.
They traveled in the stage-coach; for there were very few railroads in
those days.

The country was cultivated and fertile, and the prospect from the
windows of the coach was very fine. Sometimes wide meadows and
intervales extended along the river,--and at other places, high hills,
covered with trees, advanced close to the stream. They could see, too,
the farms, and villages, and green hills, across the river, on the New
Hampshire side.

On the second day of their journey, they turned off from the river by
a road which led into the interior of the country; for the village
where Forester's father resided was back among the mountains. They had
new companions in the coach too, on this second day, as well as a new
route; for the company which had been in the coach the day before were
to separate in the morning, to go off in different directions. Several
stage-coaches drove up to the door of the tavern in the morning, just
after breakfast, with the names of the places where they were going
to, upon their sides. One was marked, "Haverhill and Lancaster;"
another, "Middlebury;" and a third, "Concord and Boston;" and there
was one odd-looking vehicle, a sort of carryall, open in front, and
drawn by two horses, which had no name upon it, and so Marco could not
tell where it was going. As these several coaches and carriages drove
up to the door, the hostlers and drivers put on the baggage and bound
it down with great straps, and then handed in the passengers;--and
thus the coaches, one after another, drove away. The whole movement
formed a very busy scene, and Marco, standing upon the piazza in front
of the tavern, enjoyed it very much.

There was a very large elm-tree before the door, with steps to climb
up, and seats among the branches. Marco went up there and sat some
time, looking down upon the coaches as they wheeled round the tree, in
coming up to the door. Then he went down to the piazza again.

[Illustration: THE GREAT ELM]

There was a neatly-dressed young woman, with a little flower-pot in
her hand, standing near him, waiting for her turn. There was a small
orange-tree in her flower-pot. It was about six inches high. The sight
of this orange-tree interested Marco very much, for it reminded him
of home. He had often seen orange-trees growing in the parlors and
green-houses in New York.

"What a pret