the water was thick with
ships, steamboats, and small boats, all flying up and down and across,
like living things, each with an errand of its own. There, along the
edges of the city, was what seemed to me like a forest of dead trees,
without a leaf or a sign of greenness upon them.

"Well," says the captain, "you see that we have run the gate. Never been
here before, I reckon?"

"No, never," says I, "and hope I never shall be again."

"I thought things seemed a little green," says he.

"From the Green Mountains," says I.

"Exactly," says he. "Well, how do you like the looks of the city?"

"Hazy," says I; "dry as tinder. All stone walls, and too many dead trees
about for my notion."

"Dead trees? I have never seen any," says he, a-looking around.

"Must be awful short-sighted," says I. "Just look down there; it is like
a burnt faller."

He looked ahead where my finger was pointing, and laughed right out.

"Why, that is the shipping," says he.

"Shipping," says I. "Don't tell me that! I wasn't brought up in the
woods not to know tree trunks when I see them, dead or alive."

"But I assure you those are the masts of vessels. You can see the hulls
now."

I did see the hulls, and felt dreadfully; what would the captain think
of me! At once I looked up.

"Yes," says I. "There is no question about it. Those are the hulls of
ships, and the others are masts; but I was right."

He laughed: "But you said they were dead trees."

"Just so. Isn't a mast made out of a tree?"

"Certainly."

"And isn't the tree dead before it can be made into a mast?"

"Why, yes," says he, and now it was his turn to be down in the mouth.

"Well, then, isn't the edge of the water there chuck full of dead
trees?"

At first the captain sort of choked a little; but the next minute he
burst out a laughing.

"Do you want to know my opinion?" says he.

"Well, rather," says I.

"Well, it's this: Green Mountain or not, if anybody buys a certain lady
I know of for a fool, he'll get awfully taken in."

"Shouldn't wonder," says I.

With that, I picked up my umbrella, tied my bonnet a little tighter,
took my bandbox in one hand, and followed the crowd across a plank
bridge, and got into about the dirtiest road that my foot ever trod on.

"Want a carriage? Want a carriage?" I never saw men more polite than the
drivers with whips were. It seemed as if they couldn't do enough for me.
It really was a strife which should take me in his