banished every trace of the dejection and gloom which
had for many months obscured her brilliancy. Major Howard was delighted
with the improvement in his daughter's appearance, and seemed almost as
young and buoyant as she. Young Williams and his sister were their
constant companions in travel, and Florence found in Ellen a gentle
nature and affectionate heart.

A storm set in on the night of our party's arrival at the Crawford
House, and heavy clouds settled down over the brows of the great
mountains that hemmed in the narrow valley. The hotel was thronged with
visitors, and the new comers had to accept of such accommodations as two
small rooms in the upper story could afford.

"I declare," exclaimed Ellen, when the porters had brought in the
trunks, thrown back the fastenings, and retired, "after rackings, and
tossings, and tumblings enough to disjoint and unhinge a leviathan, to
what a comfortless haven are we arrived at last! O, for a tithe of the
luxury I rolled in at Niagara and Saratoga, or even one of the
state-rooms of the 'Hendrick Hudson' or 'Belle of the Waters!' They were
rooms of state indeed compared with these dismal little pens. How are we
going to turn round in them, Florence, much less unload our trunks of
their wardrobes and array ourselves for appearance in the parlors and
dining saloon?"

"Dear me!" answered Florence, as she stood before the window, blowing
her benumbed fingers, "I don't think we shall have any occasion to open
our trunks, for there is not a frock in mine I could venture to put on,
unless I was willing to be frozen to death within the hour."

"But what are we to do?" said Ellen, approaching the other window and
gazing forth on the dark, stormy evening, that was rapidly closing in
around them. Nothing could be seen beyond the small circle of the valley
in which the house stood, save dense clouds of fog and mist. The rain
poured like a second deluge, and terrific winds roared, and shrieked,
and bellowed like infuriate spirits of the rushing storm.

"What geese we have made of ourselves, Florence!" resumed Ellen, after
she had gazed in silence a few moments on the gloomy prospect presented
to her eyes; "jamming into crowded, uncomfortable coaches, and bruising
and battering our flesh and bones to jelly, all to reach this wonderful
abode of grandeur and sublimity. What 'Alps on Alps' we expected would
tower before our astonished visions! But here we are, sunk in a dismal
abyss on