ild and fair; in the hollows, the young grass spread over the
earth like a smooth cloth; over the hills and unsheltered fields, the
old grass lay like coarse mats. A few birds roved the air in anxiety,
for the time of love was at hand, and their nests were not finished.
By twelve I arrived at the town where the railroad branched in a
direction opposite the road to Surrey, and where a stage was waiting
for its complement of passengers from the cars. I was the only lady
"aboard," as one of the passengers intelligently remarked, when we
started. They were desirable companions, for they were gruff to
each other and silent to me. We rode several miles in a state
of unadjustment, and then yielded to the sedative qualities of a
stagecoach. I lunched on my sandwiches, thanking Mr. Somers for his
forethought, though I should have preferred them of ham, instead of
beef. When I took a sip from my flask, two men looked surprised, and
spat vehemently out of the windows. I offered it to them. They
refused it, saying they had had what was needful at the Depot Saloon,
conducted on the strictest temperance principles.

"Those principles are cruel, provided travelers ever have colic, or an
aversion to Depot tea and coffee," I said.

There was silence for the space of fifteen minutes, then one of them
turned and said: "You have a good head, marm."

"Too good?"

"Forgetful, may be."

I bowed, not wishing to prolong the conversation.

"Your circulation is too rapid," he continued.

The man on the seat with him now turned round, and, examining me,
informed me that electricity would be first-rate for me.

"Shoo!" he replied, "it's a humbug."

I was forgotten in the discussion which followed, and which lasted
till our arrival at a village, where one of them resided. He left,
telling us he was a "natral bone-setter." One by one the passengers
left the stage, and for the last five miles I was alone. I beguiled
the time by elaborating a multitude of trivial opinions, suggested by
objects I saw along the roadside, till the old and new church spires
of Surrey came in sight, and the curving lines at either end of the
ascending shores. We reached the point in the north road, where the
ground began its descent to the sea, and I hung from the window, to
see all the village roofs humble before it. The streets and dwellings
looked as insignificant as those of a toy village. I perceived no
movement in it, heard no hum of life. At a cross-road,