"I Some of his pictures are certainly very fine," observed Mrs. de Vaux. "I never saw water like his," continued Hazlehurst; "such variety, and always true to nature. He almost persuades one to believe all he says about water: he maintains that it has more variety of expression than any other inanimate object, and has, withal, an independent character of its own; he says it is second only to the human countenance." "He seems quite an enthusiast," said Mrs. de Vaux. "Won't he take it all out in talk?" asked Mr. Stryker, drily. "Look at his view of Hell-Gate on a cloudy evening, and say so if you can!" exclaimed Harry, warmly. {"Hell-Gate" = a narrow channel in New York City's East River} "Well, after all, he says no more for water, than has been said by the poets of all nature, from the time of the first pastoral; they tell us that the sun will make a bare old mountain smile, and the wind will throw the finest forest into a fuss." "I defy you to prove any fuss upon Charlie's works!" "Perhaps not--Where is his study? I should like to see what he has done. Is his pencil always amphibious?" "Yes; I believe he has never yet painted a landscape, without its portion of water. If you wish to see his study, you must go soon; he sails for Italy next month." "If his partiality for water is really honest, it may help him on in his profession. Has he a good execution?--that is all-important." "Decidedly good; and he improves every day. Execution is really all-important to Hubbard; for there can be no doubt that he possesses all an artist's conception." "I suspect though, his notion about expressive water is not original. It appears to me, some German or other calls water, 'the eyes of a landscape.'" "Very possibly; but Charlie Hubbard is not the man to steal other people's ideas, and pass them off for his own." "You make a point of always believing the worst of everybody, Mr. Stryker," said Mrs. de Vaux. "I wish I could help it." said the gentleman, raising his eyebrows. "Suppose, Mr. Hazlehurst, you take him to Mr. Hubbard's studio, and force him to admire that fine picture of Lake Ontario. I should like to see it again, myself; and Mr. de Vaux has been talking of carrying us all to Mr. Hubbard's, some time." Harry professed himself quite at Mrs. de Vaux's service. Mrs. Stanley, he said, was going to see his friend's pictures the very next day. A party was soon arranged, the hour fixed, and everything settled, before supper was announced. As Mrs. de Vaux and Mr. Stryker moved towards the door, they were followed by Mrs. Creighton and Harry. "Who was the young man you were talking with at supper, Josephine?" asked Mr. Ellsworth, as he stepped into the carriage after Mrs. Creighton and Harry, in driving away from the wedding. "Which do you mean?" "A mere boy--one of the groomsmen, by the white favours in his button-hole."