Desirous to improve their minds and manners by as much travel as possible, the trio resolved to leave the island by the way of Edgartown, the terminus of the steamboat route. Bidding adieu to their kind and obliging host and hostess, the twelve children, and the pleasant new friend, they set out, upon the most charming of all autumn days, for Edgartown, fully prepared to be dazzled by its beauty and confounded by its magnificence.
"Edgartown is a much finer place than Holmes's Hole, I understand," remarked Caleb to their driver.
"Well, I dunno; it's some bigger," was the reply.
"But it is a better sort of place, I am told; people from Edgartown don't seem to think much of Holmes's Hole."
"No, nor the Holmes's Hole folks don't think much of Oldtown; it's pretty much according to who you talk to, which place is called the handsomest, I reckon."
"Athens or Rome, London or Paris, Oldtown or Holmes's Hole, Mysie," murmured Caleb, as their driver stopped to reply to the driver of "a team," who was anxious to know when he was "a-goin' to butcher agin."
Edgartown proved to be a pretty little seaside town, with some handsome wooden houses, a little bank, and a very nice tavern, at which the travellers received very satisfactory entertainment. The next day, reembarking upon the "Eagle's Wing," they soon reached New Bedford.
The day that brightens half the earth Is night to half. Ah, sweet! One's mourning is another's mirth;-- You wear your bright years like a crown,-- While mine, dead garlands, tangle down In chains about my feet.
The breeze which wakes the folded flower Sweeps dead leaves from the tree;-- So partial Time, as hour by hour He tells the rapid years,--cheu! Brings bloom and beauty still to you, But leaves his blight with me.
The rain which calls the violet up Out of the moistened mould Shatters the wind-flower's fragile cup;-- For even Nature has her pets, And, favoring the new, forgets To love and spare the old.
The shower which makes the bud a rose Beats off the lilac-bloom. I am a lilac,--so life goes,-- A lilac that has outlived May;-- You are a blush-rose. Welladay! I pass, and give you room!
What did the Eleusinia mean? Perhaps, reader, you think the question of little interest. "The Eleusinia! Why, Lobeck made that little matter clear long ago; and there was Porphyry, who told us that the whole thing was only an illustration of the Platonic philosophy. St. Croix, too,--he made the affair as clear as day!"