At length the evening passed, and the hour for rest and sleep came. One of our number "took the books" and led our evening devotions. A chapter was read, our final hymn was sung, and we all bowed in prayer around that family altar. As we arose from our knees, the brethren present all walked out of doors. The sisters remained within. Some "Martha" among them had enumerated our company. There were three beds in the cabin. These were divided, and a sufficient number of beds made up on the bedsteads and over the cabin-floor to furnish a sleeping-place for all our company. This accomplished, some signal--I know not what--was given, and the brethren returned to the house. I followed them. The sisters were all in bed, upon the bedsteads, with their heads covered up by the blankets. We got into our beds as though these blankets had been thick walls. Our numbers in this room included three young ladies, a man and his wife and child, and six other men. When we awoke in the morning some of the brethren engaged in conversation for a time, until Mr. W----, the preacher, remarked, "I suppose it is time to think about getting up." At this signal the sisters covered their heads again with their blankets, and we arose, dressed, and departed. My companion for the night was the young licentiate; and as we walked toward the stable to look after our horses--the first thing usually done in the morning by persons journeying on horseback--I remarked to him, "Last night has been something new in my experience. I never slept in that way before." He looked at me with an expression of the profoundest astonishment, and exclaimed, "You haven't!" I said no more. I saw that I was the verdant one. I was the only one in all the company to whom the experiences of the night suggested a thought of anything unusual or strange. So trite and true it is that "one half of the world does not know how the other half lives."