ch looked as if they
might have weathered the storms of a hundred years.

"What are you stopping so long for, papa?" asked Bertie, wondering at
his father's unusual silence.

He did not seem to hear the question, for he presently turned to his
wife and asked, smiling,--

"Would you like a house on that hill, Cecilia? There, just beyond the
cluster of chestnut trees, is the spot I should choose."

"Oh, Lawrence! everything seems so quiet and peaceful in this neat
village, a home there would be almost a paradise."

After one more glance at the fresh greensward, where the summer sun was
casting such pleasant shadows under the grand old trees, Mr. Curtis
spoke to the horses to go on, the road winding round the lake so that
except for the trees they could have seen it for half a mile.

Presently he stopped a man at the side of the road, and asked,--

"Is there a tavern in this village?"

"No, sir," was the smiling reply; "there's little need of a tavern here,
so far away from the world."

"Is there any place where I could bait my horses and get a dinner for
my family?"

"Yes, sir; there's a farm-house a quarter of a mile back, where
travellers sometimes stop. If they're not through dinner, they'll give
you some and welcome."

"Oh, sir," said Mrs. Curtis, "we couldn't think of intruding unless they
would allow us to pay them."

The man walked on, after describing the house, laughing to himself.

The house stood on the main street leading to the city, the villagers
finding ready access thereto by a stage-coach running twice a day.
Everything about the farm looked neat and thriving. It was almost the
only house in the village which exhibited any pretensions to elegance.
It had a bow window on the south side, and three Luthern windows in the
roof. There was a garden filled with flowers, and at the side a road or
avenue leading to the immense barns in the rear.

[Illustration: Mr. Taylor's Farm-house. Vol. I. p. 20.]

In answer to Mr. Curtis' knock, a young girl opened the door, and
presently called her mother to answer the question whether they could
put up there for an hour.

"Walk right in," she answered, cordially; "dinner will be ready in a few
minutes. If you'll please, sir, to drive the horses round to the barn,
one of our men will take care of them."

Mrs. Curtis was soon resting on a sofa in a cool, pleasant parlor,
inhaling the fragrance of the June roses, which came through the open
window; the ch