At last we came to the
history of Bainbridge--a sure sign, as I thought, with much inward
gratulation, that we were approaching the end of our journey; yet the
accomplishment of this hope, reasonable as it was, was doomed to be
deferred a long time. We had first to listen to the whole history and
topographical description of that celebrated city; how it had sprung up
in the right corner, he reckoned; and how flourishing and industrious it
was; and whether we had not a mind to settle there--because if we had,
he, Mr Isaac Shifty, had some almighty fine building land to sell; and
how the town already boasted of three taverns, just the right proportion
to the ten houses of which Bainbridge consisted. We should find two of
the taverns chokeful of people, he said, because there was a canvass
going on for the Florence election; as to the third, it was a poor
place, hardly habitable indeed.

At the word _canvass_, Richards and I looked aghast.

"An election coming on!" stammered Richards.

"An election!" repeated I, the words dying away upon my tongue from
consternation at this unwelcome news. An election in Alabama, which even
in old Kentucky is considered as backwoods! Farewell, supper and sleep,
and comfortable bed and clean linen! every thing, in short, which we had
flattered ourselves with obtaining, and which we stood so much in need
of, after such a hard day's journey.

Before we had time to make any further enquiries, Caesar, who had for
some time been splashing through a sea of mud, stood suddenly still. The
light of a tallow candle, glimmering and flaring through an atmosphere
of tobacco-smoke, and the hoarse and confused sounds of many voices,
warned us that we had reached the haven. We sprang out of the gig; and
whilst Richards was tying Caesar to a post, I hurried to the door, when I
felt myself suddenly seized by the skirt of my cloak.

"Not there--not there! This is the house where you are to stop,"
exclaimed Mr Isaac Shifty, pointing anxiously to an adjacent edifice,
that looked something between a house and a pigsty.

"Don't go with him," whispered I to Richards, heartily glad to be at
last independent of the insupportable Yankee, and to be able to vex him
a little in my turn. My hand was already on the latch; I opened the
door, and we entered.

There sat the burgesses of Bainbridge, with their heels upon the
table--those, at least, for whom there were chairs; while those for whom
there were none, made