A DATS DEIVE IN THREE STATES 11 



o'clock we were on the road, the driver and 

 his one passenger, in a heavy three-seated 

 mountain wagon, locally known as a " hack," 

 drawn by two horses. Our destination was 

 said to be thirty-two miles distant, so 

 much I knew ; but the figures had given me 

 little idea of the length of the journey. It 

 was an agreeable surprise, also, when the 

 driver informed me that we were not only 

 going from South Carolina to North Caro- 

 lina, but on the way were to spend some 

 hours in Georgia, the mountainous north- 

 eastern corner of that State being wedged 

 in between the two Carolinas. In short, to 

 accomplish our ascent of twenty-eight hun- 

 dred feet we were out for a day's ride in 

 three States and over four mountains, an 

 exhilarating prospect in that perfect May 

 weather. 



My recollections of the day run together, 

 as it were, till the route, as memory tries to 

 picture it forth, turns all to one hopeless 

 blur : an interminable alternation of ups and 

 downs, largely over shaded forest roads, but 

 with occasional sunny stretches, especially, 

 as it seemed, whenever I essayed to take the 

 cramp out of my legs by a half-hour's climb 



