Chapter 28 SAYBROOK.

"Says Tweed to Till,

'What gars ye rin sae still?'

Says Till to Tweed,

'Though ye rin wi' speed,

An' I rin slaw,

For ae man that ye droon,

I droon twa.'"-Old Song.

Rather more than a hundred miles from New York the railway crosses the Connecticut River, on one of those bridges that at a little distance resemble spiders' webs hu