ers, that they often
proved as beneficial in winter as in summer. Accordingly as we had
learned that the accommodations were very indifferent, we made
arrangements with the proprietor to rent us three nice, new log cabins,
telegraphed to St. Louis for our servants, carriage and horses, and
were speedily set up for ourselves. With our own kitchen and cook we
needed nothing, for Bailey Springs were situated only nine miles from
Florence, where my parents had lived seven years, more than twenty
years previous, and our experience did not prove the old adage, "out of
sight out of mind," or the truth of the poetical effusion, "what is
friendship but a name." For our old friends were friends indeed,
evincing the most delicate attentions, and making up to us the
deficiency in our supplies, from a carpet, to keep the wind from
penetrating our open cabin floors, to dog-irons, or a dutch oven, and
the like useful articles, besides many rare sweetmeats from their own
choice kitchens. Our main supply of provisions, however,--for these
Baileys could not understand that mortal man needed more than "hog and
hominy"--came every week from my nephew's, who is a cotton planter,
residing eighteen miles from the Springs. As sure as Friday or
Saturday came, so sure came the pack horse, laden with fresh butter,
mutton, &c. The presiding genius of these luxuries, who safely guided
the richly laden vessel into port, was a grinning, half grown cuffy,
whom they called "Bowlegs." But my only object in telling you of this
delightful, but very novel winter sojourn, made so pleasant because of
the unwearied attentions, and choice society of a small circle of
friends, is to give you a peep at your beloved grandfather in these new
circumstances. Cut off, necessarily, a greater part of the time from
society, in a wild country, without occupation or recreation, excepting
such as we could originate, with many it would have been esteemed
unendurable. Especially to men possessing the active and stirring
habits of a city life, and to young ladies accustomed to a large circle
of congenial friends. But we did not find it unendurable by any means.
Your mother often said to me while there, "Mother, I did not know
before that my father was such a delightful man, we really need no
other society."

In his gunning excursions, which, in pleasant weather, were
frequent, she often accompanied her father, and, from her account of
them, upon their return, you wo