a man
whose mien, in common, was so singularly composed and masculine; "you
will find all that you knew, when a kitten, in its proper place. I
could not rake together, again, the ashes of Queen Dido, which were
scattered to the four winds of Heaven, I fear; nor could I discover a
reasonably good bust of Homer; but respectable substitutes are
provided, and some of them have the great merit of puzzling all
beholders to tell to whom they belong, which I believe was the great
characteristic of most of Mr. Jones's invention."

"I am glad to see, cousin Jack, that you have, at least, managed to
give a very respectable 'cloud-colour' to the whole house."

"Ay, it lay between that and an invisible green," the gentleman
answered, losing his momentary spleen in his natural love of the
ludicrous--"but finding that the latter would be only too conspicuous
in the droughts that sometimes prevail in this climate, I settled
down into the yellowish drab, that is, indeed, not unlike some of the
richer volumes of the clouds."

"On the whole, I think you are fairly entitled, as Steadfast Dodge,
Esquire, would say, to 'the meed of our thanks.'"

"What a lovely spot!" exclaimed Mr. Effingham, who had already ceased
to think of his own dwelling, and whose eye was roaming over the soft
landscape, athwart which the lustre of a June noontide was throwing
its richest glories. "This is truly a place where one might fancy
repose and content were to be found for the evening of a troubled
life."

"Indeed, I have seldom looked upon a more bewitching scene," answered
the baronet. "The lakes of Cumberland will scarce compete with this!"

"Or that of Brienz, or Lungeren, or Nemi," said Eve, smiling in a way
that the other understood to be a hit at his nationality.

"_C'est charmant!_" murmured Mademoiselle Viefville. "_On pense a
l'eternite, dans une telle calme!_"

"The farm you can see lying near yonder wood, Mr. Effingham," coolly
observed Aristabulus, "sold last spring for thirty dollars the acre,
and was bought for twenty, the summer-before!"

"_Chacun a son gout!_" said Eve.

"And yet, I fear, this glorious scene is marred by the envy,
rapacity, uncharitableness, and all the other evil passions of man!"
continued the more philosophical Mr. Effingham. "Perhaps, it were
better as it was so lately, when it lay in the solitude and peace of
the wilderness, the resort of birds and beasts."

"Who prey on each other, dearest father, just as t