to question her in the matter, and
offering us the use of an old-fashioned one-horse chaise, that the only
farm-labourer she employed was just then getting ready to go in, in quest
of Kitty, I availed myself of the opportunity, took the printed
advertisement of the sale to read as we went along, obtained our
directions, and off Marble and I went in quest of the usurer.

There would be sufficient time for all our purposes. It is true that the
horse, like the house, its owner, the labourer, the chaise, and all we had
yet seen about Willow Cove, as we had learned the place was called, was
old; but he was the more safe and sure. The road led up the ascent by a
ravine, through which it wound its way very prettily; the labourer walking
by our side to point out the route, after we should reach the elevation of
the country that stretched inland.

The view from the height, as it might be termed in reference to the river,
though it was merely on the level of the whole region in that portion of
the State, was both extensive and pretty. Willow Grove, as Marble called
his mother's place three or four times, while our horse was working his
way up the ascent, looked more invitingly than ever, with its verdant
declivities, rich orchards, neat cottage, all ensconced behind the
sheltering cover of the river heights. Inland, we saw a hundred farms,
groves without number, divers roads, a hamlet within a mile of us, an
old-fashioned extinguisher-looking church-spire, and various houses of
wood painted white, with here and there a piece of rustic antiquity in
bricks, or stone, washed with lime; or some livelier paint; for the Dutch
of New York had brought the habits of Holland with them, delighting in
colours. This relief may be desirable in a part of the world where the
eternal green of the meadows in a manner fatigues the eye; but certainly
the grey of nature has no just competitor in the tints of the more
artificial portions of the ordinary landscape. White may make a scene look
gay; but it can never lend it dignity, or the solemn hues that so often
render the loveliness of a view impressive, as well as sweet. When this
glaring colour reaches the fences, it gives the prettiest landscape the
air of a bleaching-yard, or of a great laundry, with the clothes hung
out to dry!

The guide pointed out to us the house of Van Tassel, and another at which
we should find Kitty, who was to be brought home by us on our return.
Understanding the cours