ion; but, in reality, there was a strong under-feeling
of admiration, had she been aware of it.

After dinner Mr. Bartlett, occupying the post of observation at his
window (room No. 1346, seventh story), saw the Morris party--Bertha
among them--enter a carriage and drive away in the direction of the
Lake. Half an hour later, properly attired, he mounted a handsome roan
at the door of a livery-stable, and set off in the same direction. He
was an accomplished rider, his legs being somewhat shorter than was
required by due proportion, owing to which circumstance he appeared
taller on horseback than afoot. Like all horsemen, he was thoroughly
self-possessed when in the saddle; and could he but have ridden into
drawing-rooms and dining-rooms, would have felt no trace of his
customary timidity.

Bertha noticed his figure afar off, approaching the carriage on a rapid
trot, but made no remark. Dick, who had a quick eye for good points
both in man and beast, exclaimed, "By Jove! there's a fine pair of
them! Look at the action of that roan! See how the fellow rises at
the right moment without leaving his saddle! no jumping or bumping
there!" Mr. Bartlett came on at a staving pace, lifting his hat to the
ladies with perfect grace as he passed. He would have blushed could he
have felt a single ripple of the wave of admiration which flowed after
him. Bertha alone was silent, more than ever provoked and disgusted
that such a gallant outward embodiment of manhood should be connected
with such disagreeable associations! Had he been any thing but a
chiropodist! A singular feeling of shame, for his sake, prevented her
from betraying his personality to her friends; and it came to pass that
they innocently defended the very charlatan whom they had so ridiculed
in the glen at Trenton from her half-disparaging observations.

After all, she thought, the man may be honest in his profession, which
he may look upon as simply that of a physician. A pain in the toe is
probably as troublesome as a pain in the head; and why should not one
be cured as well as the other? A dentist, I am sure, is a very
respectable person; and, for my part, I would as soon operate on a
corny toe as a carious tooth. [I would not have you suppose, ladies,
that Miss Morris made use of such horrid expressions in her
conversation: I am only putting her thoughts into my own words.]
Still, the conclusion to which she invariably arrived was, "I wish he
were an