144 Musings by Camp-Fire mid Wayside 



spoke of the road, the distance, the teams — some 

 forty miles to Kowaliga — of the conditions of the 

 creeks — it made my ears tingle, and to some purpose, 

 for I secured an invitation, and here I am, pros- 

 pecting for gold, and for literature. Yesterday we 

 washed gold out of a gully with an ordinary frying- 

 pan, and found quartz with the metal shining in it, 

 I will reserve Kowaliga for another Musing, and 

 devote this to Tuskegee. 



But I ought to speak of another instance of hos- 

 pitality. We zigzagged about on the railways, chang- 

 ing cars and [roads three times to make half the 

 distance to Kowaliga, and then drove eighteen miles 

 across the country and through the hills. At Talla- 

 hassee, where we left the railroad, Mr. Key, a Bos- 

 ton journalist, and myself went into a large general 

 store to ask for some bread and cheese. Mr. Pat- 

 terson, a gentleman of means and culture, after 

 having what we asked for sold to us, took us into 

 his private office, and with his own hands, toasted 

 our bread and cheese, and actually, with the aid of 

 a little butter, set us an appetizing luncn on his 

 writing-table. We were entire strangers to Mr. 

 Patterson. It was an act of practical courtesy and 

 hospitality that was unique. How many men are 

 there in his position who would go to that trouble 

 for strangers? who would not consider it beneath 

 their dignity? There is a sort of manliness in such 

 virtues which pertains to the soldier or explorer or 

 the camper. 



