m-Haugh.

The fact was, we had driven at a pace accommodated rather to the
convenience of the horses than to our impatience; and finding, at the
quaint little inn where we now halted, that we must wait for a nail or two
in a loose shoe of one of our relay, we consulted, and being both hungry,
agreed to beguile the time with an early dinner, which we enjoyed very
sociably in a queer little parlour with a bow window, and commanding, with
a litle garden for foreground, a very pretty landscape.

Good Mary Quince, like myself, had quite dried her tears by this time, and
we were both highly interested, and I a little nervous, too, about our
arrival and reception at Bartram. Some time, of course, was lost in this
pleasant little parlour, before we found ourselves once more pursuing our
way.

The slowest part of our journey was the pull up the long mountain road,
ascending zig-zag, as sailors make way against a head-wind, by tacking. I
forget the name of the pretty little group of houses--it did not amount
to a village--buried in trees, where we got our _four_ horses and two
postilions, for the work was severe. I can only designate it as the place
where Mary Quince and I had our tea, very comfortably, and bought some
gingerbread, very curious to look upon, but quite uneatable.

The greater portion of the ascent, when we were fairly upon the mountain,
was accomplished at a walk, and at some particularly steep points we had to
get out and go on foot. But this to me was quite delightful. I had never
scaled a mountain before, and the ferns and heath, the pure boisterous air,
and above all the magnificent view of the rich country we were leaving
behind, now gorgeous and misty in sunset tints, stretching in gentle
undulations far beneath us, quite enchanted me.

We had just reached the summit when the sun went down. The low grounds at
the other side were already lying in cold grey shadow, and I got the man
who sat behind to point out as well as he could the site of Bartram-Haugh.
But mist was gathering over all by this time. The filmy disk of the moon
which was to light us on, so soon as twilight faded into night, hung high
in air. I tried to see the sable mass of wood which he described. But it
was vain, and to acquire a clear idea of the place, as of its master, I
must only wait that nearer view which an hour or two more would afford me.

And now we rapidly descended the mountain side. The scenery was wilder
and bolder than I