ose heroic advent in a raft
John Milton had only heard that morning with their traveled ways, their
strange instruments and stranger talk, captured his fancy. Kept in
the background by his sisters when visitors came, as an unpresentable
feature in the household, he however managed to linger near the
strangers when, in company with Euphemia and Clementina, after breakfast
they strolled beneath the sparkling sunlight in the rude garden
inclosure along the sloping banks of the creek. It was with the average
brother's supreme contempt that he listened to his sisters' "practicin'"
upon the goodness of these superior beings; it was with an exceptional
pity that he regarded the evident admiration of the strangers in return.
He felt that in the case of Euphemia, who sometimes evinced a laudable
curiosity in his pleasures, and a flattering ignorance of his reading,
this might be pardonable; but what any one could find in the useless
statuesque Clementina passed his comprehension. Could they not see at
once that she was "just that kind of person" who would lie abed in
the morning, pretending she was sick, in order to make Phemie do the
housework, and make him, John Milton, clean her boots and fetch things
for her? Was it not perfectly plain to them that her present sickening
politeness was solely with a view to extract from them caramels,
rock-candy, and gum drops, which she would meanly keep herself, and
perhaps some "buggy-riding" later? Alas, John Milton, it was not! For
standing there with her tall, perfectly-proportioned figure outlined
against a willow, an elastic branch of which she had drawn down by one
curved arm above her head, and on which she leaned--as everybody leaned
against something in Sidon--the two young men saw only a straying
goddess in a glorified rosebud print. Whether the clearly-cut profile
presented to Rice, or the full face that captivated Grant, each
suggested possibilities of position, pride, poetry, and passion that
astonished while it fascinated them. By one of those instincts known
only to the freemasonry of the sex, Euphemia lent herself to this
advertisement of her sister's charms by subtle comparison with her own
prettinesses, and thus combined against their common enemy, man.

"Clementina certainly is perfect, to keep her supremacy over that pretty
little sister," thought Rice.

"What a fascinating little creature to hold her own against that tall,
handsome girl," thought Grant.

"They're ta