here there
was a bed and a stove,--a meal that the host seemed to enjoy, but which
we could not make much of, except the milk; that was good. A painful
meal, on the whole, owing to the presence in the room of a grown-up
daughter with a graveyard cough, without physician or medicine, or
comforts. Poor girl! just dying of "a misery."

In the spare room were two beds; the walls were decorated with the
gay-colored pictures of patent-medicine advertisements--a favorite art
adornment of the region; and a pile of ancient illustrated papers with
the usual patent-office report, the thoughtful gift of the member for
the district. The old man takes in the "Blue Ridge Baptist," a journal
which we found largely taken up with the experiences of its editor on
his journeys roundabout in search of subscribers. This newspaper was the
sole communication of the family with the world at large, but the old
man thought he should stop it,--he did n't seem to get the worth of his
money out of it. And old man Tatem was a thrifty and provident man. On
the hearth in this best room--as ornaments or memento mori were a couple
of marble gravestones, a short headstone and foot-stone, mounted on
bases and ready for use, except the lettering. These may not have been
so mournful and significant as they looked, nor the evidence of simple,
humble faith; they may have been taken for debt. But as parlor ornaments
they had a fascination which we could not escape.

It was while we were bathing in the New River, that afternoon, and
meditating on the grim, unrelieved sort of life of our host, that the
Professor said, "judging by the face of the 'Blue Ridge Baptist,' he
will charge us smartly for the few nubbins of corn and the milk." The
face did not deceive us; the charge was one dollar. At this rate it
would have broken us to have tarried with old man Tatem (perhaps he is
not old, but that is the name he goes by) over night.

It was a hot afternoon, and it needed some courage to mount and climb
the sandy hill leading us away from the corn-crib of Tatem. But we
entered almost immediately into fine stretches of forest, and rode under
the shade of great oaks. The way, which began by the New River, soon led
us over the hills to the higher levels of Watauga County. So far on our
journey we had been hemmed in by low hills, and without any distant
or mountain outlooks. The excessive heat seemed out of place at the
elevation of over two thousand feet, on which we we