Beautiful Rienzi; or, The secret vendetta — page 151: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

146 BEAUTIFUL RIENZI. just exactly, sir. A quiet, healthy place you want, ma’am? Well, there’s not a quieter nor a healthier place ’twixt this and New York, nor that same place; nor a prettier or more genteel, I make bold iv say, miss.” ‘*To whom does it belong?” ‘‘Well, sir, it did belong (though it doesn’t now—he’s dead this three year), to Squire Granville; but now a brother of his owns it, in Connecticut, and as he don’t want to come and live in it himself, he lets it out, do you see? So it’s just waiting for you, sir.” «Very good. And to whom shall I apply?” “The house-agent lives just across the street, sir. Do you see that house with the green shutters? that’s Mr. Fern- ley’s, and he'll show you over Silverlea, whenever you like.” “ Silverlea?” } ‘Yes, miss, that’s the name old Squire Granville, poor man, called the place. Oh, you'll like it, missy, it’s quite a villar like, with lots of courts and courting: places around, ha, ha! Parding me, miss, I like a joke with the young folks. You see there’s lots of them white-barked trees on the place, and the sea comes in at the back quite beautiful miss; on a calm day, you could count most a hundred ships at once, way out on the Atlantic.” ‘* Hush!” IJ ejaculated, laying down my knife and fork. ‘“Your description is so charming that I will make my papa take the house, whatever disadvantages there are and he will blame you.” | | At which the jolly landlord laughed, deep down in his capacious thorax, and departed. As soon as we had dined, my father hurried across the street to find the house agent, and my mother and I prepared ourselves to accompany them to Silverlea. It was scarcely yet sunset, when my father returned with a dry, good-humored looking little man by his side, in whose company we started for our walk of half a mile, through the village and out to the shore. ‘Pretty indeed, was the road to Silverlea, with alternate fields of wheat and rye, and sometimes wastes of alderbushes, and downy, deep-green stretches of samphires, and here and and there a prairie-like roll of meadows, where herds of sheep lifted their white heads at our approach, and bounced away to the nearest clump of pine-wood. Presently we reached the shore road, and ascended a sud- CORNUCG OOO S (©)