“Dear child,” said Miss Janet, laying her hand on that young head, “I did not mean to reprove you.  When God brings sorrow on the young, they must bear it with resignation to his will.  He delights in the happiness of his creatures, and it is not against his will that the young should enjoy the innocent pleasures of life.  Then go you and Alice into the world, but be not of the world, and come back to your homes strengthened to love them more.  Cousin Weston has the Bible opened, waiting for us.”

* * * * *

In the mean time, Bacchus has received a good deal of wholesome advice from Phillis, while she was packing his trunk, and in return, he has made her many promises.  He expresses the greatest sorrow at leaving her, declaring that nothing but the necessity of looking after his master induces him to do so, but he is secretly anticipating a successful and eventful campaign in Washington.  All the servants are distressed at the prospect of the family being away for so long a time; even old Wolf, the house-dog, has repeatedly rubbed his cold nose against Alice’s hand, and looked with the most doleful expression into her beautiful face; but dogs, like their masters, must submit to what is decreed, and Wolf, after prayers, went off peaceably with William to be tied up, lest he should attempt, as usual, to follow the carriage in the morning.

CHAPTER XXI.

You are very much mistaken in your estimate of the character of a Virginian, if you suppose he allows himself, or his horses, to be driven post-haste, when there is no urgent necessity for it.  It is altogether different with a Yankee; there is no enjoyment for him from the time he starts on a journey until he reaches the end of it.  He is bound to be in a hurry, for how knows he but there may be a bargain depending, and he may reach his destination in time to whittle successfully for it.

The Westons actually lingered by the way.  There were last looks to be taken of home, and its neighborhood; there were partings to be given to many objects in nature, dear from association, as ancient friends.  Now, the long line of blue hills stands in bold relief against the hazy sky—­now, the hills fade away and are hid by thick masses of oak and evergreen.  Here, the Potomac spreads her breast, a mirror to the heavens, toward its low banks, the broken clouds bending tranquilly to its surface.  There, the river turns, and its high and broken shores are covered with rich and twining shrubbery, its branches bending from the high rocks into the water, while the misty hue of Indian summer deepens every tint.

Fair Alice raises her languid head, already invigorated by the delightful air and prospect.  The slightest glow perceptible is making its way to her pale cheek, while the gay and talkative Ellen gazes awhile at the scenery around her, then leans back in the carriage, closes her brilliant eyes, and yields, oh! rare occurrence, to meditation.