"NOT AT HOME" IIAKD FARE. 1;"9 



For some time I kept the broad road towards Bates- 

 ville, then struck off to the left through the forest, and, 

 going tolerably fast, arrived before sunset at the plan- 

 tation of a widow named Pace, where I intended to 

 pass the night, having still ten miles to go to Little lied 

 river, and no other house near the path. The roof 

 reflected the last beams of the setting sun ; my 

 stomach, which had received nothing but the coffee 

 since the previous evening, was beginning to rejoice, 

 when we both found ourselves woftilly disappointed 

 the lady was not at home. The slaves dared not admit 

 any stranger to sleep there. I should not have cared 

 about a, roof to sleep under, for the nights were fine 

 and warm, if only I could have obtained something to 

 eat ; but this could not be, and I was obliged to employ 

 the fine warm night in walking on to the place of my 

 destination. 



After the sun had gone down, my light-colored, 

 well-trodden path was illuminated by the nearly full 

 moon, for I had left the darker lowlands some hours 

 ago, and was traversing dry, but not very fruitful, hills, 

 through the midst of fir-trees. About two miles short 

 of the river, I gained the crest of the hills that divide 

 the waters of the AYhite and Little Red rivers, just as 

 the moon was setting, and my limbs felt as if they 

 were hung with lead. I had gone seventy miles since 

 the previous morning without tasting a regular me;il, 

 which was more than flesh and blood could bear for 

 any length of time, and at last I was so overcome by 

 fatigue that I sank down exhausted under a. tree with- 

 out even lighting a lire. The poor dog l:iv liv inv side, 

 resting his head on my arm. 1 might have slept about 



