of seeing what Mr. John Effingham can
do in the way of architecture," said Grace, who loved to revenge some
of her fancied wrongs, by turning the tables on her assailant, "for I
understand he has been improving on the original labours of that
notorious Palladio, Master Hiram Doolittle!"

The whole party laughed, and every eye was turned on the gentleman
alluded to, expecting his answer.

"You will remember, good people," answered the accused by
implication, "that my plans were handed over to me from my great
predecessor, and that they were originally of the composite order.
If, therefore, the house should turn out to be a little complex and
mixed, you will do me the justice to remember this important fact. At
all events, I have consulted comfort; and that I would maintain, in
the face of Vitruvius himself, is a _sine qua non_ in domestic
architecture."

"I took a run into Connecticut the other day," said Sir George
Templemore, "and, at a place called New Haven, I saw the commencement
of a taste that bids fair to make a most remarkable town. It is true,
you cannot expect structures of much pretension in the way of cost
and magnitude in this country, but, so far as fitness and forms are
concerned, if what I hear be true, and the next fifty years do as
much in proportion for that little city, as I understand has been
done in the last five, it will be altogether a wonder in its way.
There are some abortions, it is true, but there are also some little
jewels."

The baronet was rewarded for this opinion, by a smile from Grace, and
the conversation changed. As the boat approached the mountains, Eve
became excited, a very American state of the system by the way, and
Grace still more anxious.

"The view of that bluff is Italian;" said our heroine, pointing down
the river at a noble headland of rock, that loomed grandly in the
soft haze of the tranquil atmosphere. "One seldom sees a finer or a
softer outline on the shores of the Mediterranean itself."

"But the Highlands, Eve!" whispered the uneasy Grace. "We are
entering the mountains."

The river narrowed suddenly, and the scenery became bolder, but
neither Eve nor her father expressed the rapture that Grace expected.

"I must confess, Jack," said the mild, thoughtful Mr. Effingham,
"that these rocks strike my eyes as much less imposing than formerly.
The passage is fine, beyond question, but it is hardly grand
scenery."

"You never uttered a juster opinion, Ned, t