"How much poor Margaret would enjoy one of those camellias," thought he, "and these people have bushels of them for mere show.

If I were papa, I should be tempted to be like Beauty's father, and carry off one.

How she would admire it!" Norman had plenty of time to meditate on the camellias, and then to turn and speculate on the age of the cedar, whether it could have been planted by the monks of Stoneborough Abbey, to whom the Grange had belonged, brought from Lebanon by a pilgrim, perhaps; and then he tried to guess at the longevity of cedars, and thought of asking Margaret, the botanist of the family.

Then he yawned, moved the horse a little about, opined that Mr.Rivers must be very prosy, or have some abstruse complaint, considered the sky, and augured rain, buttoned another button of his rough coat, and thought of Miss Cleveland's dinner.

Then he thought there was a very sharp wind, and drove about till he found a sheltered place on the lee side of the great cedar, looked up at it, and thought it would be a fine subject for verses, if Mr.Wilmot knew of it, and then proceeded to consider what he should make of them.
In the midst he was suddenly roused by the deep-toned note of a dog, and beheld a large black Newfoundland dog leaping about the horse in great indignation.