"I know many persons as old as you are, who--who--are not half as--intelligent." Verty repeated the shake of his head.
"I may know as much as the next one about hunting," he said; "and _ma mere_ says that none of her tribe had as much knowledge of the habits of the deer.

Yes! yes! that is something--to know all about life in the autumn woods, the grand life which, some day, will be told about in great poetry, or ought to be.

But what good is there in only knowing how to follow the deer, or watch for the turkeys, or kill bears, as I used to before the neighborhood was filled up?
I want to be a learned man.

I don't think anybody would, or ought to, marry me," added Verty, sighing.
Redbud laughed, and colored.
"Perhaps you can go to college, though," she said.
"I'm afraid not," said Verty; "but I won't complain.

Why should I?
Besides, I would have to leave you all here, and I never could make up my mind to that." ("Let it go, Ralph!" from Fanny.
To which the individual addressed, replies: "Oh, certainly, by all means, darling of my heart!") Redbud smiled.
"I think we are very happy here," she said; "there cannot be anything in the Lowlands prettier than the mountains--" "Oh! I know there is not!" exclaimed Verty, with the enthusiasm of the true mountaineer.
"Besides," said Redbud, taking advantage of this return to brighter thoughts, "I don't think learning is so important, Verty.