The Cumberland Mountains 
in the box of a shackly wagon that seemed to 
be held together by spiritualism, and was kept 
in agitation by a very large and a very small 
mule. In going down hill the looseness of the 
harness and the joints of the wagon allowed the 
mules to back nearly out of sight beneath the 
box, and the three who occupied it were slid 
against the front boards in a heap over the 
mules’ ears. Before they could unravel their 
limbs from this unmannerly and impolite dis- 
order, a new ridge in the road frequently tilted 
them with a swish and a bump against the 
back boards in a mixing that was still more 
grotesque. 
I expected to see man, women, and mules 
mingled in piebald ruin at the bottom of some 
rocky hollow, but they seemed to have full 
confidence in the back board and front board 
of the wagon-box. So they continued to slide 
comfortably up and down, from end to end, in 
slippery obedience to the law of gravitation, as 
the grades demanded. Where the jolting was 
moderate, they engaged in conversation on 
[45 1 
