By the time they reached Albany, she had seen so much of the world that she felt fairly worn out, and her head hummed like a hive of bees.

“I didn’t know, papa,—­I never knew,—­there were so many folks!”

The next letter Dotty had to read was from Prudy.  It was merely a poem copied very carefully.  You may skip it if you like; but the major said it was exquisite, and I think the major must have been a good judge, for I have the same opinion myself!

     “LITTLE DANDELION.

     “Gay little Dandelion
       Lights up the meads,
     Swings on her slender foot,
       Telleth her beads;
     Lists to the robin’s note
       Poured from above;
     Wise little Dandelion
       Cares not for love.

     “Cold lie the daisy banks,
       Clad but in green,
     Where in the Mays agone
       Bright hues were seen;
     Wild pinks are slumbering,
       Violets delay;
     True little Dandelion
       Greeteth the May.

     “Brave little Dandelion! 
       Fast falls the snow,
     Bending the daffodil’s
       Haughty head low. 
     Under that fleecy tent,
       Careless of cold,
     Blithe little Dandelion
       Counteth her gold.

     “Meek little Dandelion
       Groweth more fair,
     Till dies the amber dew
       Out of her hair. 
     High rides the thirsty sun,
       Fiercely and high;
     Faint little Dandelion
       Closeth her eye.

     “Pale little Dandelion
       In her white shroud,
     Heareth the angel breeze
       Call from the cloud. 
     Fairy plumes fluttering
       Make no delay;
     Little winged Dandelion
       Soareth away.”

This night was spent at Albany; and, as the evening closed with a little adventure I will tell you about it; and that will be all that it is necessary to relate of Dotty’s journey.

Mr. Parlin, Major Lazelle, and our heroine were sitting, after their late tea, in a private parlor.  It was time Dotty was asleep but, while she was waiting for her papa, Major Lazelle held her on his knee.  Mr. Parlin was writing letters, and did not listen to the conversation going on between his little daughter and her friend.  They commenced by talking about Zip.  Dotty said he knew as much as a boy.

“I did think once he was my brother.  And now I’m glad I didn’t have a real brother; for if he had been, p’rhaps he’d have burned up our house with a cracker.”

“So you think little girls are nicer than little boys?”

“O, yes, sir; don’t you?”

Dotty spoke as if there could be no doubt about it.

“I like good little girls,” said Major Lazelle, “such as can ride a whole day in the cars without growing cross.”

This compliment gratified Dotty.  She felt that she deserved it, for she had kept her temper admirably ever since she left home.