cked our way along up the Laurel, obliged for the most part to
ride single-file, or as the Professor expressed it,

"Let me confess that we two must be twain,
Although our undivided loves are one,"

we gathered information about Egger's from the infrequent hovels on the
road, which inflamed our imaginations. Egger was the thriving man of
the region, and lived in style in a big brick house. We began to feel
a doubt that Egger would take us in, and so much did his brick
magnificence impress us that we regretted we had not brought apparel fit
for the society we were about to enter.

It was half-past six, and we were tired and hungry, when the domain
of Egger towered in sight,--a gaunt, two-story structure of raw brick,
unfinished, standing in a narrow intervale. We rode up to the gate, and
asked a man who sat in the front-door porch if this was Egger's, and if
we could be accommodated for the night. The man, without moving, allowed
that it was Egger's, and that we could probably stay there. This person,
however, exhibited so much indifference to our company, he was such a
hairy, unkempt man, and carried on face, hands, and clothes so much more
of the soil of the region than a prudent proprietor would divert from
raising corn, that we set him aside as a poor relation, and asked
for Mr. Egger. But the man, still without the least hospitable stir,
admitted that that was the name he went by, and at length advised us to
"lite" and hitch our horses, and sit on the porch with him and enjoy the
cool of the evening. The horses would be put up by and by, and in fact
things generally would come round some time. This turned out to be the
easy way of the country. Mr. Egger was far from being inhospitable, but
was in no hurry, and never had been in a hurry. He was not exactly a
gentleman of the old school. He was better than that. He dated from
the time when there were no schools at all, and he lived in that placid
world which is without information and ideas. Mr. Egger showed his
superiority by a total lack of curiosity about any other world.

This brick house, magnificent by comparison with other dwellings in this
country, seemed to us, on nearer acquaintance, only a thin, crude shell
of a house, half unfinished, with bare rooms, the plastering already
discolored. In point of furnishing it had not yet reached the "God bless
our Home" stage in crewel. In the narrow meadow, a strip of vivid green
south of the house, ran a little