r of the house proposed to show us a "short cut," by which
we might, to especial advantage, pursue our journey. This proved to be
almost perpendicular down a hill, studded with young trees and stumps.
From these he proposed, with a hospitality of service worthy an
Oriental, to free our wheels whenever they should get entangled,
also to be himself the drag, to prevent our too rapid descent. Such
generosity deserved trust; however, we women could not be persuaded to
render it. We got out and admired, from afar, the process. Left by our
guide and prop, we found ourselves in a wide field, where, by playful
quips and turns, an endless "creek," seemed to divert itself with our
attempts to cross it. Failing in this, the next best was to whirl
down a steep bank, which feat our charioteer performed with an air
not unlike that of Rhesus, had he but been as suitably furnished with
chariot and steeds!

At last, after wasting some two or three hours on the "short cut,"
we got out by following an Indian trail,--Black Hawk's! How fair
the scene through which it led! How could they let themselves be
conquered, with such a country to fight for!

Afterwards, in the wide prairie, we saw a lively picture of
nonchalance (to speak in the fashion of clear Ireland). There, in the
wide sunny field, with neither tree nor umbrella above his head, sat
a pedler, with his pack, waiting apparently for customers. He was not
disappointed. We bought what hold, in regard to the human world,
as unmarked, as mysterious, and as important an existence, as the
infusoria to the natural, to wit, pins. This incident would have
delighted those modern sages, who, in imitation of the sitting
philosophers of ancient Ind, prefer silence to speech, waiting to
going, and scornfully smile, in answer to the motions of earnest life,

"Of itself will nothing come,
That ye must still be seeking?"

However, it seemed to me to-day, as formerly on these sublime
occasions, obvious that nothing would, come, unless something would
go; now, if we had been as sublimely still as the pedler, his pins
would have tarried in the pack, and his pockets sustained an aching
void of pence.

Passing through one of the fine, park-like woods, almost clear from
underbrush and carpeted with thick grasses and flowers, we met (for it
was Sunday) a little congregation just returning from their service,
which had been performed in a rude house in its midst. It had a sweet
and peaceful air,