he art of
entertaining, if it ever existed, is fallen into desuetude. We
unsaddled at the veranda, and sat down to review our adventure, make the
acquaintance of the family, and hear the last story from Big Tom. The
mountaineer, though wet, was as fresh as a daisy, and fatigue in no wise
checked the easy, cheerful flow of his talk. He was evidently a favorite
with his neighbors, and not unpleasantly conscious of the extent of
his reputation. But he encountered here another social grade. The Widow
Patten was highly connected. We were not long in discovering that she
was an Alexander. She had been a schoolmate of Senator Vance,--"Zeb
Vance" he still was to her,--and the senator and his wife had stayed at
her house. I wish I could say that the supper, for which we waited
till nine o'clock, was as "highly connected" as the landlady. It was,
however, a supper that left its memory. We were lodged in a detached
house, which we had to ourselves, where a roaring wood fire made amends
for other things lacking. It was necessary to close the doors to
keep out the wandering cows and pigs, and I am bound to say that,
notwithstanding the voices of the night, we slept there the sleep of
peace.

In the morning a genuine surprise awaited us; it seemed impossible, but
the breakfast was many degrees worse than the supper; and when we paid
our bill, large for the region, we were consoled by the thought that we
paid for the high connection as well as for the accommodations. This
is a regular place of entertainment, and one is at liberty to praise it
without violation of delicacy.

The broken shoe of Jack required attention, and we were all the morning
hunting a blacksmith, as we rode down the valley. Three blacksmith's
shanties were found, and after long waiting to send for the operator it
turned out in each case that he had no shoes, no nails, no iron to make
either of. We made a detour of three miles to what was represented as a
regular shop. The owner had secured the service of a colored blacksmith
for a special job, and was, not inclined to accommodate us; he had no
shoes, no nails. But the colored blacksmith, who appreciated the plight
we were in, offered to make a shoe, and to crib four nails from those he
had laid aside for a couple of mules; and after a good deal of delay,
we were enabled to go on. The incident shows, as well as anything, the
barrenness and shiftlessness of the region. A horseman with whom we rode
in the morning ga