At last she began to ask Jason some questions about the Western country--so I had a chance to look about me a leetle. Instead of being dressed out like a thing sot up for a show, she hadn't nothing on but a harnsome silk frock, and a leetle narrow velvet ribbon tied round her harnsome black hair, that was brushed till it looked as bright as a crow's back. I never did see anything braided up so nice as it was behind. She hadn't on the leastist bit of gold nor furbelows of any kind, only jest a leetle pin that glistened like a spark of fire, which pinned the velvet ribbon jest over her white forehead. It raly beats me to make out why I can't tell you what was in the room, jest as I du about all the other places; but somehow it aint easy to tell the difference, for there was settees, and chairs, and tables, and curtains, and so on--but yet it warn't a bit like any room I ever see afore. There warn't no glistening and shining, and gold and silver; but I couldn't get the notion out of my head that everything cost a good deal more than if there had been ever so much of it. The room seemed made exactly for the things that were in it, and there warn't a thing that didn't fit exactly into its place like wax-work. There was one consarn that looked awful harnsome, and it was rale ginuine too; but at first I thought it was some of these York make-believes. It was a slim green tree, eenamost tall enough to reach my head, all blown out and kivered over with as much as twenty of the biggest and whitest roses I ever did see. It was sot jest below the two winders, and when the sun came kinder softly through the curtains down into the white posies they seemed to sort o' blush like a beach blow; yit they raly were as white, according to natur, as the cleanest handful of snow you ever see. The tree grew out of a great marble flower-pot, and when I asked its name of the lady, she looked as bright and sweet as one of the flowers, and told me it come from Japan, away east. There was some picters hung agin the wall, that struck my eye so that I couldn't keep from looking at 'em. She see how I was took up, and sez she-- "That's a beautiful picter, Mr. Slick, don't you think so? There is something in Doughtie's picters that I love to look on; his grass and hillocks are so soft and green, he does excel every American artist most certainly in his atmosphere."