al as befitting a house of mourning.

At ten o'clock the funeral procession left the mansion and slowly wound
its way along a rough road to a little weather-beaten church a mile or
so distant. It was set well back from the highway in the shadow of tall
pines, and looked lonely and uncared-for. In the churchyard were a few
scattered tombstones, moss-grown, and very much awry. The graves were
unkempt and sunken, and weeds and poison ivy struggled for the mastery.
The day was bitterly cold, with an occasional flurry of snow; but, in
spite of that, an immense crowd had gathered. The church and churchyard
were filled to overflowing. It was the largest collection of queer
looking people, horses, and "fixes" I have ever seen. The services were
brief, but most impressive, and it must have been a trying ordeal for
the aged clergyman, an old friend of the deceased. Several times his
voice faltered, and he seemed about to break down. The coffin was borne
to the grave by six stalwart negroes, laborers on the estate. A lad
followed, leading poor Thurlow's favorite horse. Then the widow and her
son, the relatives, friends, and family servants. A fine male quartet
sang "Nearer, my God, to Thee," and a soul-stirring contralto, "Asleep
in Jesus." Tears stood in the eyes of all, the negroes weeping openly
and uncontrollably. As the grave was filled in, the snow began to fall
in real earnest, gusts of wind lashing the pines into fury. It was the
beginning of a three days' blizzard long to be remembered in that
country.

Returning to the warmth and comfort of the homestead, we found a vast
array of eatables and drinkables; every one was welcomed, but
notwithstanding the unusual number of guests, all was well-ordered and
decorous. The Thurlows and their numerous clan are a fine-looking folk;
the men, sturdy, well set-up--a fighting people, yet generous, kindly
and hospitable. The women--gracious, lovely, and altogether charming.
Beyond the universally cherished idea of beautiful women, blooded
horses, and blue grass, my knowledge of Kentucky had been rather vague.
My information had been derived chiefly from my experience on various
Election Committees, where moonshiners, mountain feuds, and
double-barrelled shot guns played prominent parts. Commonwealths, like
communities, are advertised most widely by the _evils_ in their midst; a
fact which jolts the reformer and drives the optimist to drink. The
lordly manner of living, the immense est