little scornfully, as much as to say Maria was
not to be fooled by flattery.

"What is _your_ name?" said Maria, after a pause.

"Mine? Oh, I have forgotten mine."

"Are you an Englishman?"

"No."

"A Frenchman?"

"No."

"A Dutchman?"

"No--I am an American."

"I like Americans--I don't like Englishmen," said the girl.

"Have you a lover?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to be married to him?"

"Yes, in about six months."

"I wish you joy."

"Thank you!"

At this moment a carriage drawn by two horses hove in sight. It was an
English traveling party--an old gentleman and two ladies, evidently
his wife and daughter. As they drew near they seemed to be a little
perplexed at the singular equipage before them--a small horse, nearly
dead and lathered all over with foam; a cariole bespattered with mud;
a dashing fine girl behind, with flaunting hair, a short petticoat,
and a flaming pair of red stockings; myself in the body of the
cariole, covered from head to foot with mire, my beard flying out in
every direction, and my hair still standing on end from the effects of
recent fright--a very singular spectacle to meet in the middle of a
public highway, even in Norway. The road was very narrow at the point
of meeting. It became necessary for one of the vehicles to pull up the
side of the hill a little in order to allow room for the other to
pass. Being the lighter party as well as under obligations of
gallantry, I at once gave way. While endeavoring to make a passage,
the old gentleman gruffly observed to the public generally,

"What an excessively bad road!"

"Very!" said I.

"Beastly!" growled the Englishman.

"Abominable!" said I.

"Oh, you are an Englishman?" said the elderly lady.

"No, madam--an American," I answered, with great suavity.

"Oh, an American!" said the young lady, taking out her note-book;
"dear me, how very interesting!"

"From California," I added, with a smile of pride.

"How very interesting!" exclaimed the young lady.

"A great country," said I.

"Gray," observed the elderly lady, in an under tone, looking very hard
at the girl, who was still standing on the little board at the back of
the cariole, and who coolly and saucily surveyed the traveling party,
"Gray, is that a Norwegian girl?"

"Yes, madam; she is my postillion, only she rides behind, according
to the Norwegian custom."

"Dear me!" cried the young lady, "how very interesting!"

"And dangerous too," I observed