THE WHITE HILLS. 95 



mountain, both by carriage and under the saddle, 

 and for the private use of the guests. A finer lo f 

 of animals is seldom seen ; and, if I have digressed 

 a little, it is because my thoughts are taking me 

 back so vividly to that afternoon stage-ride. Six 

 coal-black horses, as smooth and sleek as can be 

 found in any city stable or making the tour of 

 Chestnut Hill, composed our team. 



A dozen outside passengers, and a happy party 

 we were. Being a steady ascent for ten miles, our 

 ride was not a rapid one : still the changes of the 

 scenery, the bracing air, and the constant expecta- 

 tion of something new to wonder at, made the time 

 pass rapidly and pleasantly ; and so we rattled on, 

 until, all too soon, the journey was at an end, and 

 our proud steeds stood impatiently pawing the 

 ground, as we descended in front of the broad 

 piazza of the " Glen." 



As I look vacantly about me, collecting my 

 thoughts for the next passage, my eyes rest upon 

 the centre-table in our library, where I am writ- 

 ing : there are seven books in the rack, display- 

 ing the different literary tastes of the family ; but, 

 as I remember my feelings at that time, the book 

 to which I should turn to describe my emotions 

 is not among them, no, nor is it in my library ; 

 yet such an one there, is somewhere about the 



