VIII.

Not the least delightful of Sir Robert’s qualities was his capacity for enjoying most things that came in his way, and finding some interest in all.  When Mr. Ketchum joined him in the library, where he was jotting down “the sobriquets of the American States and cities,” and told him of the Niagara plan, his ruddy visage beamed with pleasure.

“A delightful idea.  Capital,” he said.  “I suppose I can read up a bit about it before we start, and not go there with my eyes shut.  Ni-a-ga-rah,—­monstrously soft and pretty name.  Isn’t there something on your shelves that would give me the information I want?  But we can come to that presently.  Just now I want to find out, if I can, how these nicknames came to be given.  They must have originated in some great popular movement, eh?  I thought I saw my way, as, for example, the ‘Empire State’ and the ‘Crescent City’ and some others, but this ’Sucker State,’ now, and ‘Buckeye’ business,—­what may that mean in plain English?”

Mr. Ketchum shed what light he could on these interesting questions, and Sir Robert thoughtfully ran his hands through his side-whiskers, while, with an apologetic “One moment, I beg,” or “Very odd, very; that must go down verbatim,” he entered the gist of Mr. Ketchum’s queer remarks in his note-book.

On the following morning he rose with Niagara in his soul.  He had more questions to ask at the breakfast-table than anybody could answer, and was eager to be off.  Mr. Ketchum, who had that week made no less than fifty thousand dollars by a lucky investment, was in high spirits.  Captain Kendall, who had been allowed to join the party, was vastly pleased by the prospect of another week in Ethel’s society.  Mrs. Sykes was tired of Fairfield, and longed to be “on the move” again, as she frankly said.  So that, altogether, it was a merry company that finally set off.

The very first view of “the ocean unbound” increased their pleasure to enthusiasm.  Mrs. Sykes, without reservation, admitted that it was “a grand spot,” and felt as though she were giving the place a certificate when she added, “Quite up to the mark.”  She was out on the Suspension Bridge, making a sketch, as soon as she could get there; she took one from every other spot about the place; and when tired of her pencil, she stalked about with her hammer, chipping off bits of rock that promised geological interest.  But she found her greatest amusement in the brides that “infested the place” (to quote from her letter to her sister Caroline), indulged in much satirical comment on them, and, choosing one foolish young rustic who was there as her text, wrote in her diary, “American brides like to go from the altar to some large hotel, where they can display their finery, wear their wedding-dresses every evening, and attract as much attention as possible.  The national passion for display makes them delight