The Kentuckians are as famous as the Yankees for inquisitiveness, but if they inquire into your history, they are equally ready to give theirs to you, and you cannot feel as much annoyed by the kind, confiding manner with which a Kentuckian will draw you out, as by the cool, quizzing way with which a Yankee will "guess" out your affairs. On the present occasion, Mr. Woodburn had conjectured the young man’s business, and was anxious to know who he was, and, if possible, to render him assistance. It took but a short time for the stranger to tell that he was from the East, from New York; that his name was Wilmot, and that he was in quest of a school; and in as short a time Mr. Woodburn had welcomed young Wilmot to Kentucky, but expressed his regrets that he did not come sooner, for all the schools were engaged. "But," added he, "you had better remain around here awhile and get acquainted, and then there will be no doubt of your eventually getting a situation. Meantime, as you are a stranger here, you are welcome to make my house your home." Such kindness from an entire stranger was unlooked for by Wilmot. He knew not what to make of it; it was so different from the cold, money-making men of the North. He tried to stammer out his thanks, when Mr. Edson interrupted him by nudging Mr. Woodburn and saying: "Don’t you mind old Middleton. He’s been tarin’ round after a Yankee teacher these six weeks. I reckon this chap’ll suit." Mr. Woodburn hesitated. He did not like to send Mr. Wilmot to such a place as Mr. Middleton’s, for though Mr. Middleton was a very kind man, he was very rough and uncouth in his manner and thought his money much better applied when at interest than when employed to make his house and family more comfortable. At length Mr. Woodburn replied: "True, I did not think of Mr. Middleton, but I hardly like to send a stranger there. However, Mr. Wilmot, you must not judge all Kentuckians by him, for though he is very hospitable to strangers, he is extremely rough." Mr. Wilmot thanked them for their information and said he thought he would go to Mr. Middleton’s that night. "Lord knows how you’ll get there," said Mr. Edson. "Why, is it far?" asked Wilmot. "Not very far," said Mr. Edson, "little better than four miles, but a mighty mean road at any time and a heap worse since the rains. For a spell you can get on right smart, but then, again, you’ll go in co-slush!" Mr. Wilmot smiled, but said he "thought he would try the road if Mr. Edson would give him the direction." Then followed a host of directions, of which the most prominent to Wilmot were, that "about two miles from the house is an old hemp factory, full of niggers, singing like all fury; then comes a piece of woods, in the middle of which is a gate on the left hand; open that gate and follow the road straight till you come to the mightiest, mean-looking house you ever seen, I reckon; one chimbley tumbled down, and t’other trying to. That is Middleton’s."