"You have well chosen your spot," said John Effingham; "but even this is
barely good. There is nothing surpassing about it."
"But it is home, cousin Jack."
"It is _home_, Miss Effingham," he answered, gaping, "and as you have no
cargo to sell, I fear you will find it an exceedingly dull one."
"We shall see--we shall see," returned Eve, laughing. Then, looking about
her for a few minutes, she added with a manner in which real and affected
vexation were prettily blended, "In one thing I do confess myself
disappointed."
"You will be happy, my dear, if it be in only one."
"These smaller vessels are less picturesque than those I have been
accustomed to see."
"You have hit upon a very sound criticism, and, by going a little deeper
into the subject, you will discover a singular deficiency in this part of
an American landscape. The great-height of the spars of all the smaller
vessels of these waters, when compared with the tame and level coast,
river banks, and the formation of the country in general, has the effect
to diminish still more the outlines of any particular scene. Beautiful as
it is, beyond all competition, the Hudson would seem still more so, were
it not for these high and ungainly spars."
The pilot now began to shorten sail, and the ship drew into that arm of
the sea which, by a misnomer peculiarly American, it is the fashion to
call the East River.
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