Mrs. Pell, who promised Mrs. Blair that she would look after the young people, and who afterwards admitted that the task had been much more difficult than she had expected.
But after all, one excursion of this kind is much like another, and the amount of sight-seeing of this party of friends did not tire those who had no interest in historic places, and yet it was enough to make the day much more interesting to thoughtful people like Julia and Mr. Weston, who cared for something more than the excitement of a day’s outing. So, after the short drive from Magnolia, the two latter hastened over the rocks to gaze into the depths of Rafe’s Chasm, and to look out toward the treacherous sea,—
“where the white and fleecy waves,
Looked soft as carded wool,”
as soft as when
“the cruel rocks, they gored her side,
Like the horns of an angry bull.”
On their way to the little old-fashioned inn in Essex where they were to have luncheon, Julia and Mr. Weston exclaimed many times over the beautiful woods, that seemed to belong rather to a mountain region than to one close to the sea,—wild stretches of woodland so markedly in contrast with the broad, smooth roads, and the great country houses and finely kept lawns which they were constantly passing.
They were a gay and merry party, and this picnic of Edith’s (for so they called it, although their luncheon was
