a
couple of servants to attend them, took a voyage to New York, and thence
up the beautiful Hudson River to Albany, where they were received by the
first gentry of the province; and thence into the French provinces, where
they were hospitably entertained by the French gentry. Harry camped with
the Indians and took furs and shot bears. George, who never cared for
field sports, and whose health was still delicate, was a special
favourite with the French ladies, who were accustomed to see very few
young English gentlemen speaking the French language so readily as our
young gentleman. He danced the minuet elegantly. He learned the latest
imported French catches and songs and played them beautifully on his
violin; and to the envy of poor Harry, who was absent on a bear-hunt, he
even had an affair of honour with a young ensign, whom he pinked on the
shoulder, and with whom he afterwards swore an eternal friendship.

When the lads returned home at the end of ten delightful months, their
mother was surprised at their growth and improvement. George especially
was so grown as to come up to his younger-born brother. The boys could
hardly be distinguished one from another, especially when their hair was
powdered; but that ceremony being too cumbrous for country-life, each of
the lads commonly wore his own hair, George his raven black, and Harry
his light locks, tied with a ribbon.

Now Mrs. Mountain had a great turn for match-making, and fancied that
everybody had a design to marry everybody else. As a consequence of this
weakness she was able to persuade George Warrington that Mr. Washington
was laying siege to Madame Esmond's heart, which idea was anything but
agreeable to George's jealous disposition.

"I beg you to keep this quiet, Mountain," said George, with great
dignity. "Or you and I shall quarrel, too. Never to any one must you
mention such an absurd suspicion."

"Absurd! Why absurd? Mr. Washington is constantly with the widow. She
never tires of pointing out his virtues as an example to her sons. She
consults him on every question respecting her estate and its management.
There is a room at Castlewood regularly called Mr. Washington's room.
He actually leaves his clothes here, and his portmanteau when he goes
away. Ah, George, George! The day will come when he won't go away!"
groaned Mrs. Mountain, and in consequence of the suspicions which her
words aroused in him Mr. George adopted toward his mother's favourite a