I was greatly interested and amused with some experiences entirely unlike these, which were related to me by my friend, whom I have already introduced to my readers, the first Methodist circuit-rider that I met deep in the Brush. He had some years before received an appointment to a circuit that was not in the mountains, but in a poor, broken, hilly region of country. Having been provided with a map of his circuit by his predecessor, he was making his way to a part of it known as "Coon Range." Everything indicated the extremest poverty and ignorance among the people. The very small patches of ground cleared and cultivated around their wretched cabins, and the coon, deer, and other skins that were hanging up around them, showed that the chief dependence of the people for a livelihood was upon the chase. Penetrating deeper and deeper into this utterly wild and desolate region, his horse struck and followed a neighborhood footpath until it led him to the back side of a cabin. An opening had been cut through the logs for a small window, but as yet there was no sash or glass in it. The woman, hearing the sound of the footsteps of his horse as he rode up, stuck her head out of this opening, and at the first sight saluted him with, "How 'dy, stranger, how 'dy? I reckon you are our new preacher." He told her he had been appointed to that circuit, and gave her his name. At this she was all excitement and joy, and said: "'Light, Brother M----, 'light, sir. I'm mighty glad to see you. Brother K---- used to stay with us a heap, and I've got the 'class-book.'" As soon as he entered the house she brought the class-book, and began to give him a full account of each member of the class. But he told her it was nearly night, and he had had no dinner. He had ridden all day, and he was very hungry and very tired. She replied to this intimation: "We'll have supper d'rectly, Brother M----, d'rectly. The pig is in the pen. And Joe, he'll be home right soon, and get the water a bilin'. We'll have supper d'rectly, Brother M----."