I found the evening psalms and lessons, and then climbed into my nest--where I sank down, down, down into the feathery depths, in a manner peculiarly terrifying to one whose nights had all been spent on hair mattresses. A few hours' ride had transplanted me into a new region, among an entirely different race of people, and I fell asleep to dream that a whole army of intricate sums were charging upon me with fixed bayonets. * * * * * Morning came, and I was under the painful necessity of getting up--which is always an unnatural wrench under the most favorable auspices. The first bell had rung at an unearthly hour, and I paid no attention to it, but the second bell was not much more civilized; and as I failed to appear, Mrs. Bull came to the door to see if I had made way with myself. I told her not to wait--I would be down as soon as I could get dressed; and I plunged desperately into a basin of cold water. Thankful for the institution of nets, I hastily packed my hair into what Artemus Ward calls 'a mosquito bar,' and with a final shake-out of my hurriedly-thrown-on drapery, I descended, with the expectation of finding the family in the full enjoyment of their morning meal. But Mrs. Bull stood at the head of the table, Mr. Bull at the foot, and Miss Friggs at the side, all with their hands on their respective chairs. If they had stood in that position ever since Mrs. Bull's visit to my door, they had enjoyed it for at least half an hour. This was very embarrassing; but the only answer that I received to my remonstrances was that 'they knew what manners was.' After that, I always managed to be down in time. I found Miss Friggs just as she had been represented, with the addition of being very kindly disposed toward me; but between her and Mr. Bull there existed a sort of chronic squabble that led to frequent passages of wit. Mr. Bull opened the ball, that morning, by observing, with a half wink at me, that 'he see she hadn't been kerried off yet,' which referred to a previously expressed objection on the part of Miss Friggs to sleep without some secure fastening on the door of her room; and people in the country can never understand why you should want anything different from the existing state of things. Then Mr. Bull remarked that Miss Friggs had better sleep in a bandbox or an old stocking, as folks packed away valuables in such things, because they were seldom looked into by housebreakers. Suddenly, Miss Friggs asked her tormentor if he had seen any robbers lately--when he turned around and handed me the butter. This referred to a tradition that Mr. Bull had come running home one evening, entirely out of breath, under the firm belief that he was pursued by a robber, and nearly shut the door in Mr. Summers's face, who had been in vain hallooing to him to stop, in order to apprise him of my expected arrival, and make some provision for my accommodation.