difficult to come at the
indigenous product of the soil; and Miselle found none of whose purity
she could be sure, except the youth who drove her from Tarr Farm to
Schaeffer's on her return. Arriving in sight of the railway, this _puer
ingenuus_, pointing to the track, inquired,--

"An' be thot what the keers rides on?"

"Yes," said Mr. Williams, "that's the track."

"An' yon's the wagons whar ye'll set?" pursued he, pointing to some
platform-cars, waiting to be loaded with oil-barrels.

"Hardly. Those are where the oil sits."

"Be? Then yon's for the fowks, I reckon?" indicating a line of box
freight-cars a little farther on.

"No, not exactly. Those are the passenger-cars, away up the track, with
windows and steps."

"An' who rides in the loft up atop?" inquired the youth, after a
prolonged stare.

This question, referring to the raised portion of the roof, universal in
Western cars, being answered, Mr. Williams inquired in his turn,--

"Did you never see the railway before?"

"Never seed 'em till this minute. Fact, I never went furder from home
than Tarr Farm 'fore to-day. 'Spect there's a many won'erful sights
'twixt here an' Eri', ben't there?"

Imagine a full-grown lad, in these United States, whose ideas are
bounded by the city of Erie!

Not indigenous to the soil, but a firmly rooted, exotic growth, was the
sonsy Scotch family whom Miselle was taken to see, the Sunday after her
arrival.

Two years ago their picturesque log-cabin stood almost in a wilderness,
with the farm-house of James Tarr its only neighbor. Now the derricks
are crowding up the hill toward it, until only a narrow belt of woodland
protects it from invasion. In front, a small flower-garden still showed
some autumn blooms at the time of Miselle's visit, and was the only
attempt at floriculture seen by her on Oil Creek.

With traditional Scotch hospitality, the mistress of the house, seconded
by Maggie and Belle, the elder daughters, insisted that the proposed
call should include dinner; and Miselle, nothing loath, was glad that
her friends allowed themselves to be prevailed upon to stay.

"It's no that we hae onything fit to gie ye, but ye maun just tak' the
wull for the deed," said the good mother, as she bustled about, and set
before her guests a plain and plentiful meal, where all was good enough,
and the fresh bread and newly churned butter something more.

"It's Maggie's baith baker and dairy-woman," said the well-please