ing-chair, with his muddy legs hanging over an arm, at once, with
a curious, old-fashioned air, began "keeping company" by telling me of
the new litter of pigs, with as little diffidence as though I were an
old neighbor who had dropped in on the way to the cross-roads. "And
thet thar new Shanghai rooster, mister, ain't he a beauty? He cost a
dollar, he did--a dollar in silver, sir!"

There was no difficulty in drawing Sam out. He is frankness itself.
What was he going to make of himself? Well, he "'lowed" he wanted to
be either a locomotive engineer or a steamboat captain--hadn't made
up his mind which. "But whatever a boy wants to be, he will be!" said
Sam, with the decided tone of a man of the world, who had seen things.
I asked Sam what the attractions were in the life of an engine driver.
He "'lowed" they went so fast through the world, and saw so many
different people; and in their lifetime served on different roads,
maybe, and surely they must meet with some excitement. And in that of
a steamboat captain? "Oh! now yew're talk'n', mister! A right smart
business, thet! A boss'n' o' people 'round, a seein' o' th' world,
and noth'n' 't all to do! Now, that's right smart, I take it!" It was
plain where his heart lay. He saw the steamers pass the farm daily,
and once he had watched one unload at Point Pleasant--well, that was
the life for him! Sam will have to be up and doing, if he is to be the
monarch of a stern-wheeler on the Ohio; but many another "cracker" boy
has attained this exalted station, and Sam is of the sort to win his
way.

Soon the kine came lowing into the yard, and my piquant young friend
who had met me at the gate stood in the doorway talking with us both,
while their brother Charley, an awkward, self-conscious lad of ten,
took my pail and milked into it the required two quarts. It is
a large, square room, where I was so agreeably entertained. The
well-chinked logs are scrupulously whitewashed; the parental bed, with
gay pillow shams, bought from a peddler, occupies one corner; a huge
brick fireplace opens black and yawning, into the base of a great
cobblestone chimney reared against the house without, after the
fashion of the country; on pegs about, hang the best clothes of the
family; while a sewing-machine, a deal table, a cheap little mirror
as big as my palm, a few unframed chromos, and a gaudy "Family Record"
chart hung in an old looking-glass frame,--with appropriate holes for
tintypes of fat