house, her brother being away at the village, and her father, who
preached the day before at some distance, not being expected home until
the next morning. Reassured by my civil-toned inquiries about the road,
she unfastened the door and came out to the porch, where she proceeded
to instruct me how to go on, which was just the thing I least desired to
do. By this time I had discovered the political complexion of the
family, and, making myself known, was instantly invited in, with the
assurance that her father would be gravely displeased if she permitted
me to go on before he returned. I had interrupted my little benefactress
in the act of writing a letter, on a sheet of foolscap which lay on an
old-fashioned stand in one corner of the room, beside the ink-bottle and
the candlestick. In the diagonal corner stood a tall bookcase, the
crowded volumes nestling lovingly behind the glass doors--the only
collection of the sort that I saw at any time in the mountains. A
feather-bed was spread upon the floor, the head raised by means of a
turned-down chair, and here I was reposing comfortably when the brother
arrived. It was late in the forenoon when the minister reached home, his
rickety wagon creaking through the snow, and drawn at a snail's pace by
a long-furred, knock-kneed horse. The tall but not very clerical figure
was wrapped in a shawl and swathed round the throat with many turns of a
woolen tippet. The daughter ran out with eagerness to greet her father
and tell of the wonderful arrival. I was received with genuine delight.
It was the enthusiasm of a patriot eager to find a sympathetic ear for
his long-repressed views.[20]

[Footnote 20: The Rev. James H. Duckworth, now postmaster of Brevard,
Transylvania County, North Carolina, and in 1868 member of the State
Constitutional Convention, in his letter of June 24, 1890, says: "I have
not forgotten those things of which you speak. I can almost see you
(even in imagination) standing at the fire when I drove up to the gate
and went into the house and asked you, 'Have I ever seen you before?'
Just then I observed your uniform. 'Oh, yes,' said I; 'I know who it is
now.' ... This daughter of whom you speak married about a year after,
and is living in Morgantown, North Carolina, about one hundred miles
from here. Hattie (for that is her name) is a pious, religious woman."]

[Illustration: ARRIVAL HOME OF THE BAPTIST MINISTER.]

When night came and no entreaties could prevail t