My eyes had become so full of the fresh, rosy life of the
Englishman's face, that the new man's face was bleached and unhealthy to
me. I happened to glance back from him to the Dominie, and saw, that,
allowing for green spectacles, they were both of a color. We were so
arranged on the top of the coach, that with reasonable twisting of necks
we were able to maintain an animated conversation, and soon found our
account in the new element.
"Well, Remington!"
"Well, Lewis!"
"Where from now?"
"From Niagara, and home by the White Hills."
"And what of the last, or of both?"
"Miss Rugg has fallen into the one, and Miss Somebody has been to the
top of the other. Had to be brought down, though. Women shouldn't climb
mountains."
"There has been some talk of a road, or practicable path at least, to
the top of Mount Washington."
"Never'll be done. Impossible on the face of the thing."
"Nothing is impossible to Yankees, Remington."
"This is. And now, Lewis, whence come you, and whither go?"
"From Weston, and to New York.
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