OR, THE WORLD HAS CHANGED. 145 



HOW I GOT RID OF PRICE ALBERT. 



K Tear the famous Cashier's Valley, in the Blue Ridi^e moun- 

 tains of North Carolina, and two miles across a gap, 

 nestles as lovely a little spot as this noted range can show, 

 Fairfild Valley, resembling a great ampitheater, with its lofty 

 blue rock walls surrounding. 



Here my father's family used to spend their summers, and 

 here I afterwards, with my uncle, J, T. Hackett, ran a stock 

 farm and a summer hotel. We raised cattle, hog«, sheep and 

 mules. Among other animals, we owned an imported jack 

 named Prince Albert, that cost eight hundred dollars. After 

 a while the confederate war came on, and we had to abandon 

 this lovely home, and went as volenteers to fight our country's 

 battles. We sold out every thing except this especial ani- 

 mule. Not being able to find a purchaser for his royal high- 

 ness, I sent him down to Edgfield, S. C, and boarded him out 

 during the war, and when the w^ar was ended moved to South- 

 west Georgia. Still not being able to dispose of the 

 prince, I transported him, at considerable expense, to my new 

 home, where he became not only a considerable expense, but a 

 nuisance to the whole neighborhood. He would not bear im- 

 prisonment, either by fences, bars or gates. ISTot satisfied with 

 injury to my own property, he committed dej>redations 

 on my neighbors. The more I tiied to sell him, the more I 

 couldn't do it. Finally I tried to give him away; couldn't 



