, and became so exhilarated that she smashed her bromide
bottle out of the window, declaring herself cured, and tried to sing
'Hail Columbia,' in a voice like an asthmatic bagpipe.

Mat amused herself and her comrades by picking up the different articles
that kept tumbling down on her head from her badly built bundle; while
Amanda scintillated to such an extent that the others laughed themselves
into hysterics, and lay exhausted, prone upon the seats.

They ate, drank, sung, gossiped, slept, read, and revelled, till another
passenger got in, when propriety clothed them as with a garment, and
the mirthful damsels became three studious statues.

The new-comer was a little priest; so rosy and young that they called
him the 'Reverend Boy.' He seemed rather dismayed at first; but, finding
the ladies silent and demure, he took heart, and read diligently in a
dingy little prayer-book, stealing shy glances now and then from under
his broad-brimmed hat at Amanda's white hands, or Matilda's yellow
locks, as if these vanities of the flesh had not quite lost their charms
for him. By and by he fell asleep, and leaned in his corner, making
quite a pretty picture; for the ugly hat was off, his boyish face as
placid as a child's, his buckled shoes and neat black-stockinged legs
stretched comfortably out, his plump hands folded over the dingy book,
and the little bands lay peacefully on his breast.

He was quite at their mercy now; so the three women looked as much as
they liked, wondering if the poor dear boy was satisfied with the life
he had chosen, and getting tenderly pitiful over the losses he might
learn to regret when it was too late. His dreams seemed to be pleasant
ones, however; for once he laughed a blithe, boyish laugh, good to hear;
and when he woke, he rubbed his blue eyes and stared about, smiling like
a newly roused baby.

He got out all too soon, was joined by several other clerical youths,
and disappeared with much touching of big beavers, and wafting of
cassocks.

Innocent, reverend little boy! I wonder what became of him, and hope his
sleep is as quiet now as then,--his awakening as happy as it seemed that
summer day.

Six o'clock saw our damsels at Le Mans; and, after dinner, a sunset
walk took them to the grand old cathedral, where they wandered till
moonrise. Pure Gothic of the twelfth century, rich in stained glass,
carved screens, tombs of kings and queens, dim little chapels, where
devout souls told th