Afterward I heard of "or'nery" people, "or'nery" preachers, doctors, and lawyers, "or'nery" animals, and "or'nery" almost everything else, and concluded the word was a corruption of "ordinary," though it was more intensely expressive as it was usually applied. I have been asked by those who were aware of my wide acquaintance with all classes of people in the Southwest, if the character of Nancy Kirtley, in Rev. Dr. Edward Eggleston's "Roxy," was not overdrawn--if it could possibly be true to nature. I have answered, without hesitation, "It is absolutely true to life." The Methodist sister I have described above was not a Nancy Kirtley in moral character, but she was in personal beauty. In her form and features, in the glow of her face, and in the marvelous beauty of her eyes, she was a remarkable specimen of physical perfection. So was her young daughter, and I have seen scores of others like them in the wilds of the Southwest. I was greatly interested in a distinction drawn by General Grant, when asked if a certain man to whom he had given an office was not a very ignorant man. "He is an illiterate man," said the General, "but I should not call him an ignorant man." That was a "distinction" worthy of General Grant. I have met a great many highly educated literary men who knew almost nothing of men and of the great world outside of books. And I have known a great many illiterate men and women, with marvelous knowledge of the world, with wonderful shrewdness and keenness, and with an ability to compass the end sought surpassed by very few that I have ever known. The fact that they could not read or write required on their part unusual tact and skill not to be overreached, and to make their way in the world. I have known several such men who have acquired large fortunes. Dr. Eggleston's Nancy Kirtley is not a mythical character. After the young preacher had made satisfactory changes in his dress, we all bade good-by to our hospitable friends, and rode several miles to the county-seat where the quarterly-meeting was to commence that night. Here the young circuit-rider preached the opening sermon, and the meeting continued through the following Saturday and Sunday. There was nothing to me unusual and noteworthy in the meetings, except in the love-feast on Sabbath morning. The first to speak was my host, a warm-hearted, earnest man, a Cumberland Presbyterian, who spoke of the goodness of God to him and of his love to all the followers of Christ, and then started out and shook hands with nearly every one in the house, continuing his fervent remarks and ejaculations during all the hand-shaking. Next, a sister spoke and started in the same manner, shaking hands with the brethren, and throwing her arms around the sisters and embracing them in the warmest manner. Nearly all who followed them went through these same demonstrations. They not only sang, "Now here's my heart, and here's my hand, To meet you in that heavenly land,"