s carriage. It had 'VAN TYCK:
RESERVED,' written on it, after the English fashion, and we took our
places without question. Presently Aunt Celia's eyes and mine alighted
at the same moment on a bunch of yellow primroses pinned on the stuffed
back of the most comfortable seat next the window.

'They do things so well in England,' said Aunt Celia admiringly. 'The
landlord must have sent my name to the guard--you see the advantage of
stopping at the best hotels, Katharine--but one would not have suspected
him capable of such a refined attention as the bunch of flowers. You
must take a few of them, dear; you are so fond of primroses.'

Oh! I am having a delicious time abroad! I do think England is the most
interesting country in the world; and as for the cathedral towns, how
can anyone bear to live anywhere else?

_She_

Oxford, _June 12_,
The Mitre.

It was here in Oxford that a grain of common-sense entered the brain of
the flower of chivalry; you might call it the dawn of reason. We had
spent part of the morning in High Street, 'the noblest old street in
England,' as our dear Hawthorne calls it. As Wordsworth had written a
sonnet about it, Aunt Celia was armed for the fray--a volume of
Wordsworth in one hand, and one of Hawthorne in the other. (I wish
Baedeker and Murray didn't give such full information about what one
ought to read before one can approach these places in a proper spirit.)
When we had done High Street, we went to Magdalen College, and sat down
on a bench in Addison's Walk, where Aunt Celia proceeded to store my
mind with the principal facts of Addison's career, and his influence on
the literature of the something or other century. The cramming process
over, we wandered along, and came upon 'him' sketching a shady corner of
the walk.

Aunt Celia went up behind him, and, Van Tyck though she is, she could
not restrain her admiration of his work. I was surprised myself; I
didn't suppose so good-looking a youth could do such good work. I
retired to a safe distance, and they chatted together. He offered her
the sketch; she refused to take advantage of his kindness. He said he
would 'dash off' another that evening and bring it to our hotel--'so
glad to do anything for a fellow-countryman,' etc. I peeped from behind
a tree and saw him give her his card. It was an awful moment; I
trembled, but she read it with unmistakable approval, and gave him her
own with an expression that meant, 'Your