d water) road,
under the shade of fine trees with the rhododendron illuminating the
way, gleaming in the forest and reflected in the stream, all the ten
miles to Elk Cross Roads, our next destination. We had heard a great
deal about Elk Cross Roads; it was on the map, it was down in the
itinerary furnished by a member of the Coast Survey. We looked forward
to it as a sweet place of repose from the noontide heat. Alas! Elk
Cross Roads is a dirty grocery store, encumbered with dry-goods boxes,
fly-blown goods, flies, loafers. In reply to our inquiry we were told
that they had nothing to eat, for us, and not a grain of feed for the
horses. But there was a man a mile farther on, who was well to do and
had stores of food,--old man Tatern would treat us in bang-up style. The
difficulty of getting feed for the horses was chronic all through the
journey. The last corn crop had failed, the new oats and corn had not
come in, and the country was literally barren. We had noticed all along
that the hens were taking a vacation, and that chickens were not put
forward as an article of diet.

We were unable, when we reached the residence of old man Tatem, to
imagine how the local superstition of his wealth arose. His house is
of logs, with two rooms, a kitchen and a spare room, with a low loft
accessible by a ladder at the side of the chimney. The chimney is a huge
construction of stone, separating the two parts of the house; in fact,
the chimney was built first, apparently, and the two rooms were then
built against it. The proprietor sat in a little railed veranda. These
Southern verandas give an air to the meanest dwelling, and they are much
used; the family sit here, and here are the washbasin and pail (which is
filled from the neighboring spring-house), and the row of milk-pans.
The old man Tatern did not welcome us with enthusiasm; he had no
corn,--these were hard times. He looked like hard times, grizzled times,
dirty times. It seemed time out of mind since he had seen comb or razor,
and although the lovely New River, along which we had ridden to his
house,--a broad, inviting stream,--was in sight across the meadow, there
was no evidence that he had ever made acquaintance with its cleansing
waters. As to corn, the necessities of the case and pay being dwelt on,
perhaps he could find a dozen ears. A dozen small cars he did find, and
we trust that the horses found them.

We took a family dinner with old man Tatern in the kitchen, w