A delightful ride of a single day, and most of the distance on the rail-way, will carry us now through a grand succession of waving harvests and verdant woods, of swarming hamlets and splendid towns, from the Cayuga to the Hudson, and set us down in Cloverdale, whose lovely homes nestle like a brood of milk-white doves in the covert of the Rensselaer hills. And then performing a journey of thought a little more rapid and long, we return to the time of our story, recalling the year and season, and admit another character to our scene. We find it a pleasant afternoon for a walk. The blue Indian summer opens blandly around, and imbibing beauty and gladness through every sense and pore, we walk a good while, and then turn our steps to the mansion of the Masons; enjoy a free talk and a cozy cup of tea, and get a glance at Julia Wilmer. The Masons have a lower and narrower mansion than they mean to have in a very few years; and their family grows, and crowds it too much; but it has a neat appearance, and the elms and maples in front, and the apples and peaches on the sides and rear, give it pleasant shades and delicious comforts. And the moral and mental scenery within, has many lights, and verdures and fruits. The Masons are very good people. They are honest and industrious; they often relieve distress; and they have a few fine volumes on the dresser that most of them know by heart. The principal fault that any one finds with the Masons is, that they are too exacting in a bargain, too grasping for money and lands, and expect and demand, too much of their servants. Julia Wilmer loves them, for they took her when an orphan, gave her a comfortable home, and reared her to womanhood with virtue, intelligence and hope. And we see that Julia carries a crimson face, and smiling look; although she stoops considerably, and her long arms and loping gait, make her appear to many, ungainly; she is ruddy as a rareripe peach, and smiles from her forehead and eyes, and face and mouth.