ation for
day-lilies or tulips; "promise me that I may show you my tulips, and I
will promise you that you shall like botany hereafter."

We agreed at last to bury the hatchet at the foot of a rose-bush, which
I said I would allow, excused the existence of other flowers. The bulbs
he gave me on the top of the stage-coach that day made a revolution in
the taste of Weston; and some climbing plants, from his house
afterwards, took root in our rude homes, and have displaced the old
glaring colors with soft beauty and grace. Before I left Weston, which
happened in time, we had prairie-roses, honeysuckles, and woodbine
clambering over half the houses in the place, and bouncing-Bets were
extinguished forever.

I forgot that we had never heard this man's name, though it did not
matter at all. He was a cultivated gentleman, and we had no occasion for
introduction. We met freely on that platform, and it was pleasant to us
to talk on so many subjects outside of personal interest. He had
travelled, and gave us results, in a sketchy, off-hand way, of much that
he had observed that was extremely entertaining in foreign manners.

Suddenly his loud, cheery voice rang out,--

"Halloo, old boy, get up here!"

He did get up, a languid, pale man, with sharp features, and a frame so
attenuated that I involuntarily placed a soft bag for him to lean
against, and removed a cane and umbrella that seemed likely to hurt his
bones.

It was about half an hour before I saw that the new man was not at all
an invalid, but of the natural gaunt frame and pallid complexion of my
countrymen. My eyes had become so full of the fresh, rosy life of the
Englishman's face, that the new man's face was bleached and unhealthy to
me. I happened to glance back from him to the Dominie, and saw, that,
allowing for green spectacles, they were both of a color. We were so
arranged on the top of the coach, that with reasonable twisting of necks
we were able to maintain an animated conversation, and soon found our
account in the new element.

"Well, Remington!"

"Well, Lewis!"

"Where from now?"

"From Niagara, and home by the White Hills."

"And what of the last, or of both?"

"Miss Rugg has fallen into the one, and Miss Somebody has been to the
top of the other. Had to be brought down, though. Women shouldn't climb
mountains."

"There has been some talk of a road, or practicable path at least, to
the top of Mount Washington."

"Never'll be done. Impos