rgaret Elizabeth,--it is a beautiful name," said Hanny, with delight.
"Mother will give her something, I know. And I will be her godmother,
and endow her for the Elizabeth."

"With all your worldly goods?" asked John.

"Not _quite_ all--"

"You'll be impoverished, Hanny," interrupted John, with a glint of
humour. "Six nephews and nieces already! And there are four of us still
to marry, if George ever comes back. He hasn't made his fortune yet. He
was crazy to go. The good times here suit me well enough."

Grandmother Underhill put fifty dollars in the bank for the new baby,
and gave it a silver spoon. Hanny gave her a silver cup with her name
engraved on it, and, with Dolly's help, made her a beautiful christening
robe, which Cleanthe saved up for her, the sewing and tucking on it was
so exquisite. She used to show it to visitors with a great deal of
pride.

CHAPTER XV

THE BEGINNINGS OF ROMANCE

There was Saratoga and Newport; and Long Branch laid claim to some
distinction; even Cape May was not unknown to fame,--still the Jersey
coast, with all its magnificent possibilities, really had not been
discovered, and was rather contemptuously termed sand wastes. It was
getting to be quite the thing to go off awhile in the summer. Some of
the style had spent a "season" in London, and seen the young Queen and
the Prince Consort and the royal children, and gone over to Paris to see
"the nephew of his uncle," who was taking a hand in the new French
Republic.

But plain people still visited their relatives a good deal. Ben had
taken a holiday, and gone up to Tarrytown after Hanny; and they had made
pilgrimages along to different cousins. They sat on the old porch at
Fordham; but one of the cousins was married, and gone to her own home,
taken the tall, bright-eyed young man who had been about so much the
olden summer.

It was really a delightful walk over there. Ben was finding out odd
places for Delia, who was now interested in some Revolutionary sketches.
They had explored Kingsbridge; they had found Featherbed Lane; they
learned the Harlem River once had borne the Indian name of Umscoota.
Here, more than forty years before, Robert Macomb had built his dam, in
defiance of certain national laws, as he wanted a volume of water for
his mill.

Many and ineffectual were the efforts made to remove it by the
surrounding property-owners who had large and beautiful estates. For no
one dreamed then that the great cit