He was tall and thin, and had sandy side whiskers.
"Yes, it is a beautiful evening," replied Carl, politely.
"And the scenery is quite charming. Have you
ever been all the way up the river?"
"No, but I hope some day to take a day trip."
"Just so. I am not sure but I prefer the
Rhine, with its romantic castles and vineclad hills."
"Have you visited Europe, then?" asked Carl.
"Oh, yes, several times. I have a passion
for traveling. Our family is wealthy, and I
have been able to go where I pleased."
"That must be very pleasant."
"It is. My name is Stuyvesant--one of the
old Dutch families."
Carl was not so much impressed, perhaps, as
he should have been by this announcement,
for he knew very little of fashionable life in
New York.
"You don't look like a Dutchman," he said, smiling.
"I suppose you expected a figure like a beer keg,"
rejoined Stuyvesant, laughing. "Some of my forefathers
may have answered that description, but I am not built that way.
Are you traveling far?"
"I may go as far as Chicago."
"Is anyone with you?"
"No."
"Perhaps you have friends in Chicago?"
"Not that I am aware of. I am traveling on business."
"Indeed; you are rather young for a business man."
"I am sixteen."
"Well, that cannot exactly be called venerable."
"No, I suppose not."
"By the way, did you succeed in getting a stateroom?"
"Yes, I have a very good one."
"You're in luck, on my word. I was just too late.
The man ahead of me took the last room.
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