be had here; but, at last, milk was found in the farther end of the
village, at a modest little cottage quite embowered in roses, with
two century plants in tubs in the back-yard, and a trim fruit and
vegetable garden to the rear of that, enclosed in palings. I remained
a few minutes to chat with the little housewife, who knows her roses
well, and is versed in the gentle art of horticulture. But her horizon
is painfully narrow--first and dearest, the plants about her, which is
not so bad; in a larger way, Stephensport and its petty affairs; but
beyond that very little, and that little vague.

It is ever thus, in such far-away, side-tracked villages as this--the
world lies in the basin of the hills which these people see from their
doors; if they have something to love and do for, as this good woman
has in her bushes, seeds, and bulbs, then may they dwell happily in
rustic obscurity; but where, as is more common, the small-beer of
neighborhood gossip is their meat and drink, there are no folk on the
footstool more wretched than the denizens of a dead little hamlet like
Stephensport.

We are housed this night on the Kentucky side, a mile-and-a-half above
Cloverport, whose half-dozen lights are glimmering in the stream. In
the gloaming, while dinner was being prepared, a ragged but sturdy
wanderer came into camp. He was, he said, a mountaineer looking for
work on the bottom farms; heretofore he had, when he wanted it, always
found it; but this season no one appeared to have any money to expend
for labor, and it seemed likely he would be obliged to return home
without receiving an offer. We made the stranger no offer of a seat
at our humble board, having no desire that he pass the night in
our neighborhood; for darkness was coming on apace, and, if he long
tarried, the woodland road would be as black as a pocket before he
could reach Cloverport, his alleged destination. So starting him off
with a biscuit or two, he was soon on his way toward the village,
whistling a lively tune.

* * * * *

Crooked Creek, Ind., Saturday, 2d.--We had but fairly got to bed last
night, after our late dinner, when the heavens suddenly darkened,
fierce gusts of wind shook the tent violently, and then rain fell in
blinding sheets. For a time it was lively work for the Doctor and me,
tightening guy-ropes and ditching in the soft sand, for we were in
an exposed position, catching the full force of the storm. At last,
every