October 7th, we started for Lebanon, where we had an appointment at night. The rains not having extended east, the road was fine and we glided along beautifully and reached Germantown about twelve o’clock. Not being acquainted with any person in the place, we drove up to the only public house we saw, and called for dinner and horse fed. On entering the bar room, the landlord skipped around the counter, and running his keen eye over the immense assortment of intoxicating liquors which lined one end of the room, politely inquired what we would drink. We answered, “a cup of cold water sir, if you please, when dinner is ready.” His countenance fell, but he recovered himself and invited us to take a seat. Presently in came a dirty, rough looking fellow, with his greasy pants patched from top to bottom, and placed himself at the counter, with his feet about as far apart upon the floor as his legs were long, and rolled up his red eyes as he looked out from his bloated face, while the landlord called out, “What will you have sir?” He answered, “Hand down old Rough and Ready,” when a huge bottle of the fiery stuff was instantly set down. He poured a common sized glass tumbler two-thirds full, swallowed it, smacked his lips and took his seat. During this time he uttered some dozen or two of the most horrid oaths he could think of. One after another came in till some twenty had entered the room in a similar style, among whom there was not one, not excepting the landlord, who was not a profane swearer. Now the dinner bell rang, and in a perfect rush we gathered round the table well spread with the bounties of life. The stream of oaths continued from almost every mouth. Presently my right hand man commenced entertaining the company by giving an account of his travels among the _Hoosiers_, how ignorant they were, and that he had some notion of turning out preacher among them, as he was certain he could have made lots of money in that way! Poor silly creature thought we; you must get sense enough to eat your dinner in a civil manner, when you are in the company of a stranger, before you can even be an impostor. Should we call at such a house to stay over night, we should surely leave, after finding what kind of company we had fallen into. To be annoyed by the awful stench of tobacco smoke, spit and snuff, with the wretched scent of a company of men who are never sober, is what we will not endure if there is any other chance. “FAITH COMES BY HEARING.”