r, and
Miss Theo cast hers down and blushed.

"Never mind, honesty is better than books any day, Mr. Warrington!"
cried the jolly Colonel. "You may go through the world very honourably
without reading any of the books I have been talking of, and some of
them might give you more pleasure than profit."

"I know more about horses and dogs than Greek and Latin, sir. We most of
us do in Virginia," said Mr. Warrington.

"You are like the Persians; you can ride and speak the truth."

"Are the Prussians very good on horseback, sir? I hope I shall see their
king and a campaign or two, either with 'em or against 'em," remarked
Colonel Lambert's guest. Why did Miss Theo look at her mother, and why
did that good woman's face assume a sad expression?

Why? Because young lasses are bred in humdrum country towns, do you
suppose they never indulge in romances? Because they are modest and have
never quitted mother's apron, do you suppose they have no thoughts of
their own? What happens in spite of all those precautions which the
King and Queen take for their darling princess, those dragons, and
that impenetrable forest, and that castle of steel? The fairy prince
penetrates the impenetrable forest, finds the weak point in the dragon's
scale armour, and gets the better of all the ogres who guard the castle
of steel. Away goes the princess to him. She knew him at once. Her
bandboxes and portmanteaux are filled with her best clothes and all her
jewels. She has been ready ever so long.

That is in fairy tales, you understand--where the blessed hour and youth
always arrive, the ivory horn is blown at the castle gate; and far off
in her beauteous bower the princess hears it, and starts up, and knows
that there is the right champion. He is always ready. Look! how the
giants' heads tumble off as, falchion in hand, he gallops over the
bridge on his white charger! How should that virgin, locked up in that
inaccessible fortress, where she has never seen any man that was not
eighty, or humpbacked, or her father, know that there were such beings
in the world as young men? I suppose there's an instinct. I suppose
there's a season. I never spoke for my part to a fairy princess, or
heard as much from any unenchanted or enchanting maiden. Ne'er a one
of them has ever whispered her pretty little secrets to me, or perhaps
confessed them to herself, her mamma, or her nearest and dearest
confidante. But they will fall in love. Their little hearts are