Edna, rather amused, scrutinized the pictures that represented George looking like a comely bulldog, and said that she thought they were all fair likenesses. "But which is the best? This one's a new attitood for me. I never had one taken in that way before. Suppose you were picking one out for yourself, which would you choose?" To please him, Edna gave the preference to one over the others. "Well--I don't know but you're right," said George reflectively, as he admired the one selected. "I'll have a lot of these struck off, and when they're finished, I won't forget to send you one, unless you prefer one of these full faces." Edna said no--that the first one mentioned would do, and thanked him. Noticing the horse-shoe over the fire-place, she inquired whether it were hung there to keep off witches, or for good-luck. "Good-luck?--no, not exactly, although I shouldn't wonder if it had brought us good-luck. As for the witches, you see yourself it don't keep off the most dangerous kind--the young and beautiful ones," replied George, with an attempt to be gallant. "Oh thank you, Mr. Gildersleeve; you're very flattering indeed," replied Edna with a smile. "I wouldn't take five hundred dollars for that horse-shoe, Miss Heath," resumed George proudly. "Indeed," said Edna. "No, nor a thousand. That there shoe that you see there, came off Gineral George Washington's horse just afore he fought the great battle of Trenton. My grandfather shod him anew himself, and kept this old shoe. The forge was right here, and that chimney-stack was part of it. That's the story, Miss Heath; and at that time your great-grandfather, old Whitman Obershaw, ran a saw-mill just along by the head of the rapids, ten rods beyond the foot-bridge, and I've heard my father say often enough that the old man was a pretty hard case, and tight about half the time." Edna, though nettled and confused for a moment at these free reflections on her maternal ancestor, could not refrain from smiling at the unconcerned way in which they were imparted. "To think how you've grown lately, Miss Heath," continued the blunt iron-master; "why, it seems to me but last week that you and Ada Mumbie and Judge Hull's granddaughter, were little bits of things, stopping, as you came from school with your arms full of books, to peep in at the foundry, half-scared, with your eyes as big as saucers. Well, time passes, and things change, and the Works are different now from what they was then. We've enlarged them considerable. Have you been through them lately? No--well, would you like to go? Without bragging a great deal, I don't think we can be beat much in our line in the world." George's world, by the bye, was bounded by New York and Trenton, and consisted chiefly of Belton. Edna said she had been in Mr. Mumbie's paper-mill, and had been much interested, and thought she would like to see the Works, if convenient.