The Dashwoods had been a full week in the great metropolis. Each day they visited different localities, and each day fresh wonders and glories were revealed to them. They all enjoyed the city—all but Mrs. Dashwood and Maria. The former tired of it after the first day, and saw nothing to enthuse about. There was nothing real, nothing natural there, to appeal to her homely spirit. In her heart she longed to be back at “Fairfield”—longed to be amongst the fowls, and the ducks, and the dairy cows, and to see again the great wheatfields, and the blue peaks of the ranges, and vast plainlands stretching far away to the boundless west. But for the sake of the others she endured, without complaint, …
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