"Oh, yes; I knew he was to be here about these times. Pray, tell me which is Mr. de Vaux's place. It is a fine house, I am told." "A great deal too fine," said Harry. "It is all finery, or rather it was a few years since." "It is much improved now," observed Elinor; "he talks of taking down half the columns. That is the house, Mrs. Creighton," she added, showing the spot where the white pillars of Colonnade Manor were partly visible through an opening in the wood. "What a colonnade it seems to be! It puts one in mind of the Italian epigram on some bad architecture," said Mr. Ellsworth: "'Care colonne che fate qua? Non sappiamo, in verita!'" {"Care colonne..." = Dear columns, what are you doing here? We really don't know! (Italian)} "I understand, Miss Wyllys, that your friend, Mr. Stryker, calls it the 'cafe de mille colonnes,'" said Mrs. Creighton. {"cafe de mile colonnes" = coffee-house of a thousand columns (French)} "Does Mrs. Creighton's friend, Mr. Stryker, treat it so disrespectfully? Mr. de Vaux has given it a very good name, I think. It is Broadlawn now; last year it was Colonnade Manor." "And, pray, what did Mr. Taylor's manorial rights consist in?" asked Mr. Ellsworth. "In the privilege of putting up as many Grecian summer-houses as he pleased, I suppose," said Harry; "the place promised to be covered with them at one time." "Mr. de Vaux has taken them down; all but two at least," said Elinor. "It was fortunate that Mr. Taylor had a long purse," remarked Mrs. Creighton; "for he seems to have delighted in superfluities of all kinds." "I suppose you are aware, Mrs. Creighton, that false taste is always a very expensive foible," said Mr. Wyllys; "for it looks upon ornament and improvement as the same thing. My neighbour, Mr. Taylor, certainly has as much of that spirit as any man I ever knew." "The name he gave his place is a good proof of that," said Harry. "If he had called it the Colonnade, that would have been at least descriptive and appropriate; but he tacked on the Manor, which had neither rhyme nor reason to recommend it." "Was it not a Manor before the revolution?" inquired Mrs. Creighton. "Oh, no; only a farm belonging to the Van Hornes. But Taylor would not have it called a farm, for the world; he delights in big words," said Mr. Wyllys. "That is only natural, I suppose, for 'Don Pompey,' as Mr. Stryker calls him," observed Mr. Ellsworth.