transportation
from New York or Philadelphia, crowds of oil-speculators, oil-dealers,
oil-teamsters, a clumsy bridge across the Creek, a prevailing atmosphere
of petroleum,--such is Oil City.

At the water-side the view is somewhat more interesting. No wharves
have yet been built; and the swarming flatboats "tie up" all along the
bank, just as they used to do three years ago, when, with a freight of
lumber instead of oil, they stopped for the night at the solitary little
Dutch tavern then monopolizing the site of the present city.

A rakish little stern-wheel steamer lay in the stream, bound for
Pittsburg, and sorely was Miselle tempted to take passage down the
Alleghany in her; but lingering memories of home and the long-suffering
Caleb at last prevailed, and, with a sigh, she turned her back upon the
beautiful river, and retraced her steps through yards crowded with
barrels of oil waiting for shipment,--oil in rows, oil in stacks, oil in
columns, and oil in pyramids wellnigh as tall and as costly as that of
Cheops himself.

Returned to the Petroleum House, Miselle bade a reluctant good-bye to
the kindly Scots, who here took stage for Franklin, and watched them
float away, as it appeared, upon the sea of mud in a wagon-body whose
wheels and horses were too nearly submerged to make any noticeable
feature in the arrangement.

Soon after, Jamie appeared at the door of the parlor nominally to
announce himself ready to return; but, after a fierce struggle with his
natural modesty of disposition, he advanced into the room, and silently
laid two of the biggest apples that ever grew in the laps of Mrs.
Williams and Miselle. Putting aside all acknowledgments with "Ho! what's
an apple or two?" the woodsman next proceeded on a tour of inspection
round the room, serenely unconscious of the magnificent scorn withering
him from the eyes of the jewelled lady, who now reclined upon a
broken-backed sofa, taking a leisurely survey of the strangers.

Jamie paused some time at the piano.

"And what might such a thing as that cost noo?" asked he, at length,
giving the case a little back-handed blow.

"About eight hundred dollars," ventured Miselle, to whom the inquiry was
addressed.

Jamie opened his wide black eyes.

"Hoot! Feyther could ha' bought Jim Tarr's whole farm for that, three
year ago," said he; and, with one more contemptuous stare at the piano,
he left the room, and was presently seen in the stable-yard, shoulderin