n at twenty-one makes a poor beginnin'. If he
lives, he'll be a poor shote, and no mistake. I'm sorry for the gal."

"Somebody ought to tell her. Why not you?"

"Wal, what's the good on 't? She wouldn't hear a word. When a woman's
once sot her mind, don't do no good to talk. For that matter, talkin'
never did do much, I'm thinkin',--exceptin' preachin'. We're bound to
hear that, Parson," he added, laughing, and with a nod which might seem
respectful.

In three hours we had driven thirteen miles. Pretty good progress this
of a warm day, and with a full complement of passengers. We had watched
the sun rise over Walpole hills, and the specks in the distance where
the early farmers were ploughing and sowing. The breaking day, the
bursting spring, and all the outward melodies with which the welcoming
day rings as we toil on, are so many incentives to appetite, and we are
all sharp for the ready breakfast, at six o'clock.

Then, as I am talking of the past, and not of the present, there was
time enough: time enough for the comfortable discussion of breakfast,
for the changing of raiment among the babies, for chatting in the
bar-room, for the interchange of news among the men, and even for
glasses of milk-punch. Tell it not in modern Gath that even the Dominie
spiced his half-mug of flip with an anecdote, and that every man and
woman took cider as well as coffee.

How can I describe the events and vicissitudes that befell us during
this journey of three days and a half to New York? Modern travellers,
who are, or are not, as it happens, run off the track, smashed up, or
otherwise suddenly and summarily disposed of, have little notion of our
successive and amusing accidents, and of how they diversified and
occupied the mind, so as entirely to preclude the _ennui_ which comes
from railroad-travelling, with its ninety-nine chances of safety to one
of accident.

That we were tipped out and over repeatedly,--that one of the leaders
had fits, (which amiable weakness was understood and allowed for by our
driver, who was in hopes the critter wouldn't have 'em that day,)--that
the coach wholly collapsed once, letting all the patient passengers into
a promiscuous heap of unbroken bones,--this, and such as this, will be
easily believed by any New-England traveller who remembers thirty years
back. But how we fell so softly that the brains were never damaged,--why
falling into ditches at night wasn't an unhealthy process,--and, above