At length, however, this interesting affair was settled, and most happily.
The appearance promised well, and the performance bettered it.
We hastened to pack up our "trumpery," as Captain Mirven unkindly calls the paraphernalia of the ladies, and among the rest, my six hundred pages of griffonage.

There is enough of it, yet I must add a few more lines.
I suspect that what I have written will make it evident that I do not like America.

Now, as it happens that I met with individuals there whom I love and admire, far beyond the love and admiration of ordinary acquaintance, and as I declare the country to be fair to the eye, and most richly teeming with the gifts of plenty, I am led to ask myself why it is that I do not like it.

I would willingly know myself, and confess to others, why it is that neither its beauty nor its abundance can suffice to neutralize, or greatly soften, the distaste which the aggregate of my recollections has left upon my mind.
I remember hearing it said, many years ago, when the advantages and disadvantages of a particular residence were being discussed, that it was the "who ?" and not the "where ?" that made the difference between the pleasant or unpleasant residence.

The truth of the observation struck me forcibly when I heard it; and it has been recalled to my mind since, by the constantly recurring evidence of its justness.