into his swarthy cheek, and nerve his brawny arm, and clinch
his horny fist, as he marched straightway up to the doomed
offender, fiercely denounced his dishonesty, and violently
demanded redress? Ah! then and there was hurrying to and
fro, and eagerness and delight on every countenance, and a
ring formed, and the prospect of a lovely "row,"--and I did
it; but a police-officer sprang up, full-armed, from somewhere
underground, and undid it all, and enforced a reluctant peace.

And so we are at Saratoga. Now, of all places to stay at in
the summer-time, Saratoga is the very last one to choose. It
may have attractions in winter; but, if one wishes to rest and
change and root down and shoot up and branch out, he might as
well take lodgings in the water-wheel of a saw-mill. The
uniformity and variety will be much the same. It is all a
noiseless kind of din, narrow and intense. There is nothing
in Saratoga nor of Saratoga to see or to hear or to feel.
They tell you of a lake. You jam into an omnibus and ride
four miles. Then you step into a cockle-shell and circumnavigate
a pond, so small that it almost makes you dizzy to sail around
it. This is the lake,--a very nice thing as far as it goes;
but when it has to be constantly on duty as the natural scenery
of the whole surrounding country, it is putting altogether too
fine a point on it. The picturesque people will inform you of
an Indian encampment. You go to see it, thinking of the forest
primeval, and expecting to be transported back to tomahawks,
scalps, and forefathers but you return without them, and that
is all. I never heard of anybody's going anywhere. In fact
there did not seem to be anywhere to go. Any suggestion of
mine to strike out into the champaign was frowned down in the