"Good-morning!" he said. "Have you seen the falls yet?"
"I caught a glimpse of them last evening
I am going to visit them after breakfast."
"There are a good many people staying here
just now--some quite noted persons, too."
"Indeed!"
"Yes, what do you say to an English lord?"
and Carl's new friend nodded with am important
air, as if it reflected great credit on the hotel
to have so important a guest.
"Does he look different from anyone else?"
asked Carl, smiling.
"Well, to tell the truth, he isn't much to
look at," said the other. "The gentleman who
is with him looks more stylish. I thought
he was the lord at first, but I afterwards
learned that he was an American named Stuyvesant."
Carl started at the familiar name.
"Is he tall and slender, with side whiskers,
and does he wear eyeglasses?" he asked, eagerly.
"Yes; you know him then?" said the other,
in surprise.
"Yes," answered Carl, with a smile, "I am slightly
acquainted with him. I am very anxious to meet him again."
CHAPTER XXXIV.
CARL MAKES THE ACQUAINTANCE OF AN ENGLISH LORD.
"There they are now," said the stranger,
suddenly pointing out two persons walking
slowly along the piazza. "The small man,
in the rough suit, and mutton-chop whiskers,
is Lord Bedford."
Carl eyed the British nobleman with some curiosity.
Evidently Lord Bedford was no dude. His suit was
of rough cloth and illfitting. He was barely five
feet six inches in height, with features decidedly plain,
but with an absence of pretension that was creditable
to him, considering that he was really what
he purported to be.
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