rges were in no respect higher than
at Cincinnati.

A considerable creek, called Conococheque Creek, runs near the
town, and the valley through which it passes is said to be the
most fertile in America.

On leaving Haggerstown we found, to our mortification, that we
were not to be the sole occupants of the bulky accommodation, two
ladies and two gentlemen appearing at the door ready to share it
with us. We again started, at four o'clock, by the light of a
bright moon, and rumbled and nodded through the roads
considerably worse than those over the mountains.

As the light began to dawn we discovered our ladies to be an old
woman and her pretty daughter.

Soon after daylight we found that our pace became much slower
than usual, and that from time to time our driver addressed to
his companion on the box many and vehement exclamations. The
gentlemen put their heads out, to ask what was the matter, but
could get no intelligence, till the mail overtook us, when both
vehicles stopped, and an animated colloquy of imprecations took
place between the coachmen. At length we learnt that one of our
wheels was broken in such a manner as to render it impossible for
us to proceed. Upon this the old lady immediately became a
principal actor in the scene. She sprung to the window, and
addressing the set of gentlemen who completely filled the mail,
exclaimed "Gentlemen! can't you make room for two? only me and my
daughter?" The naive simplicity of this request set both the
coaches into an uproar of laughter. It was impossible to doubt
that she acted upon the same principle as the pious Catholic, who
addressing heaven with a prayer for himself alone, added "_pour
ne pas fatiguer ta misericorde._" Our laugh, however, never
daunted the old woman, or caused her for a moment to cease the
reiteration of her request, "only for two of us, gentlemen! can't
you find room for two?"

Our situation was really very embarrassing, but not to laugh was
impossible. After it was ascertained that our own vehicle could
not convey us, and that the mail had not even room for two, we
decided upon walking to the next village, a distance,
fortunately, of only two miles, and awaiting there the repair of
the wheel. We immediately set off, at the brisk pace that six
o'clock and a frosty morning in March were likely to inspire,
leaving our old lady and her pretty daughter considerably in the
rear; our hearts having been rather hardened by the exclus