On entering the door the barkeeper requested him to enter his name. He hesitated, appeared confused and begged to be excused, stating he had a particular objection which he would make known when he was about to start, provided it could be kept a secret, which was consented to. This was sufficient to arouse the suspicions of all who were in the house as to the stranger's honesty. All the neighbors assembled. Some declared he was a horse thief, others a murderer, while the most charitable stated he had been a member of the penitentiary fraternity. After obtaining refreshments with some difficulty he mounted his horse amidst the gaping crowd, called for the barkeeper and whispered in his ear, loud enough for everybody to hear: "My name is Robinson. I objected to mentioning it, fearing you would name a town after me!" He spurred his horse, rode off and left the gaping crowd, which is always to be found about little villages, much disappointed and chagrined. Traveled twenty-seven miles over a rich country, part rolling, part broken, belonging to the United States. This part of Illinois is high and healthy and is well watered. Arrived at the Widow Jackaway's ferry, one mile above the junction of the Mississippi and Illinois rivers. Passed several small French huts, made principally of bark, very open and but little appearance of comfort. Large strings of geese, ducks, opossums and skunks hung upon the sides of the huts to ripen. At Mrs. Jackaway's we were entertained kindly. We slept on a bedcord and covered with a cow-hide. There was but one room to the house, hen house excepted, which formed rather a separate apartment, but without a door, and the fowls had to pass through the house to get to their lodgings. This appeared necessary to protect them from the wolves and wildcats.