it, for the sea-breezes and the mountain-breezes may have full
sweep through their life; but women cannot, for they just go
home and live air-tight.


If the railroad-men at Saratoga tell you that you can go
straight from there to the foot of Lake George, don't you
believe a word of it. Perhaps you can, and perhaps you cannot;
but you are not any more likely to "can" for their saying so.
We left Saratoga for Fort-William-Henry Hotel in full faith of
an afternoon ride and a sunset arrival, based on repeated and
unhesitating assurances to that effect. Instead of which, we
went a few miles, and were then dumped into a blackberry-patch,
where we were informed that we must wait seven hours. So much
for the afternoon ride through summer fields and "Sunset on
Lake George," from the top of a coach. But I made no unmanly
laments, for we were out of Saratoga, and that was happiness.
We were among cows and barns and homely rail-fences, and that
was comfort; so we strolled contentedly through the pasture,
found a river,--I believe it was the Hudson; at any rate,
Halicarnassus said so, though I don't imagine he knew; but he
would take oath it was Acheron rather than own up to ignorance
on any point whatever,--watched the canal-boats and boatmen go
down, marvelled at the arbor-vitae trees growing wild along
the river-banks, green, hale, stately, and symmetrical, against
the dismal mental background of two little consumptive shoots
bolstered up in our front yard at home, and dying daily,
notwithstanding persistent and affectionate nursing with
"flannels and rum," and then we went back to the blackberry-
station and inquired whether there was nothing celebrated in