14000 MILES 



huge wash-basin and a punch bowl, lined with soft green 

 moss, and the separate apartments with rocky, grotesque 

 walls and carpets of twisting and writhing roots of trees. 

 An enterprising farmer has cut a rough road to this won- 

 derful spot, a half-mile from the highway, and by paying 

 twenty-five cents toll we were admitted "beyond the 

 gates" and saw no living person until our return. The 

 same enterprise that built the road had left its mark at 

 the "Pulpit." Cribs for horses were placed between trees, 

 and a large crib in the shape of a rough house, with tables 

 and benches, served as a dining-room for visitors. Every 

 stick and stone was labeled with as much care and preci- 

 sion as the bottles in a drug store, and there was no 

 doubt which was the "Devil's Pulpit" and which the 

 "Lovers' Retreat." It was a fearfully hot place, but that 

 did not surprise us, for we naturally expect heat and 

 discomfort in the precincts of his majesty. We unhar- 

 nessed Charlie, and after exploring the gorge thoroughly 

 and emptying our lunch basket, we sat in the carriage 

 and read until we were so nearly dissolved by the heat 

 that we feared losing our identity, and made preparations 

 to leave. It was an assurance that we had returned to 

 this world when the gate keeper directed us to Milford 

 and said we would go by the house where Horace Gree- 

 ley was born. He pointed out the house and we thought 

 we saw it ; but as we did not agree afterward, we simply 

 say we have passed the birthplace of Horace Greeley. 



It was nearly dark when we got to Milford, and we 

 rather dreaded the night at that old hotel, where we had 

 been twice before. The exterior was as unattractive as 

 ever, but we were happily surprised to find wonderful 



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