ROCHESTER TO BUFFALO. 185 



hay for Paul from his barn loft, he in some way lost 

 his footing and fell through, but no serious damage 

 was done. 



This little incident simply added an extra attraction 

 to the "horse that was going to California/' In the 

 course of the morning I went to the hotel sitting-room 

 to make some observations and to post my journal. 

 While quietly occupied in this way I noticed the 

 arrival of several of the men and boys of the place, 

 who came in, seated themselves on the wooden 

 benches that were placed around the sides of the 

 room, and began unceremoniously to " look me over." 

 Phoebe, the proprietor's daughter, and the ruling 

 spirit at the "Corners," a bright little maid, who filled 

 the offices of cook, waitress, chambermaid and clerk, 

 assumed one of her various roles and was standing 

 behind the counter. Soon, one of her rustic knights 

 sauntered up to her, pipe in mouth, and called out, 

 " Pheeb, gimme a match !" Whereupon, her father, 

 who was standing on one side of the room, country 

 fashion, with trousers over his boot-tops, and in his 

 shirt sleeves, stepped forward and said with admirable 

 dignity, " Phebe, sir!" adding, as the nonplused 

 offender made some bashful apology, " You's brought 

 up well nuff, Jack, but you've forgot some on't." 



This was an unexpected turn of affairs which I 

 scarcely expected to witness at "Croft's,*^ but it at least 

 gave evidence of a certain sense of refinement which 

 we Americans would hardly be credited with outside 

 our cultivated circles. It afforded, too, food for reflec- 

 tion upon that assumption of equality which in this 

 country so often tends to familiarity. We are prone 

 to forget that " familiarity breeds contempt." 



