They had been educated like the majority of well-to-do women of that period, but this was far from developing a love of study--that progressive intelligence which furnishes the ladies of the present with unfailing entertainment. Nothing, therefore, was a greater satisfaction to them than the daily visits of an old and respected colonel, living on a large farm just beyond the border of the town. He rode to the post office every morning on a white horse, quite as stiff in his joints as his master, and it was one of the duties of the postman to respond to the timely cough of the colonel by carrying out the scanty mail, if such there chanced to be. The soldierly salutation repaid him a hundred-fold for this small attention, while the colonel turned his horse toward Mountain Place. He was so prompt in all his proceedings that the servant prepared herself, at ten o’clock, to answer the summons of the enormous brass knocker, and with as much dignity as if he had come with a message of state, the ruddy man inquired for “the ladies.” Then, as he entered the hall, he graciously relieved any embarrassment by mentioning “Mrs. Mountain’s parlor, if you please,” or “Mrs. Plum’s drawing room,” alternating day by day. Immediately the lady presiding arose and greeted him as though he was recently returned from a foreign mission, and in the next breath spoke to the servant, who had long ago learned to await this direction: “Ask Mrs. Plum if it will be convenient to come down, Colonel Gray is here,” or “My compliments to Mrs. Mountain.” The newcomer then formally welcomed the second sister, carefully asked after her health, and conversation became general. An hour, sometimes two, the colonel’s horse stood in the wind and weather awaiting his agreeable master, but if, as rarely happened, the latter limit was transgressed, a loud neighing brought the gentleman to his feet. “Ladies, I have had a most entertaining morning; duty alone calls me from your side. Allow me to wish you good-day.” In the afternoon as the sisters sat by the front window knitting socks for the poor, or daintily stitching some fine muslin for a baby’s outfit, they discussed the Colonel’s visit. “Letitia, I am sorry brother does not like the Colonel.” They never disagreed, and from a constant desire to emphasize, each the opinion of the other, there had grown a habit of repetition. “Yes, Honora, I wish brother did incline toward the Colonel.” “I cannot understand his objection. Colonel Grey is a gentleman, and an excellent provider.” This term embraced a multitude of small virtues, chiefly that of generosity toward his immediate family, and to Mrs. Mountain and Mrs. Plum, the man who failed in this respect had better not be alluded to.