slice of ham and half this doughnut? The bread and butter I want
myself."

The freshness and novelty of this journey wore away before the long
summer afternoon began to wane; the cars were crowded and uncomfortable,
and the cinders flew about in as trying a way as cinders can.

None of the girls had the least idea where they were going. They knew,
in a general way, that there must be such a place as Chautauqua Lake, as
the papers that they chanced to come in contact with had been full of
the delights of that region for many months; and, indeed, a young man,
earnest, enthusiastic and sensible, who stopped over night at Dr.
Mitchell's, and had been a delighted guest at the Chautauqua Assembly a
year before, had sown the first seeds that resulted in this trip.

He of course could tell the exact route and the necessary steps to be
taken; but it had been no part of Eurie's wisdom to ask about the
journey thither; she knew how many boats were on the lake, and what kind
of fish could be caught in it, but the most direct way to reach it was a
minor matter. So there they were, simply blundering along, in the belief
that the railroad officials knew their business, and would get them
somewhere sometime.

As the day waned, and the road became more unknown to them, and their
weariness grew upon them, they fell to indulging in those stale jokes
that young ladies will perpetrate when they don't know what else to do.
As they declared, with much laughter, and many smart ways of saying it,
that Chautauqua was a myth of Eurie's brain, or that she had been the
dupe of the fine young theological student who had chanced her way and
that the search for paradise would come to naught, perhaps it was not