Lazy men can be found in all countries; but no lazier specimen of humanity ever lived than one existing at present near the Tuckasege in Jackson county. We heard of him one night at a dilapidated farm-house of an ex-sheriff of that county. It can better be told in the exact words of the conversation through which we learned of the specimen’s existence; but, in order for you to fully appreciate it, it will be necessary to give an idea of the appearance of the house and its surroundings. The farm of level land was first owned by an enterprising farmer. The house, a large, log one, was built by him 40 years ago. It now consists of a main building of two stories, with a wing in the rear. It first struck us that the house had never been completed; for on riding toward it we found ourselves under a long roof extending from the main building. The loft and roof overhead were intact, and were supported by posts at the two corners out from the house. It was apparently a wing that had never been sided or floored. After supper as we sat by the moonlight-flooded window, on inquiring of our host why the large wing had never been finished, he answered: “Finished? Why, it war finished, but when the old man died, his son and heir, one of the no-countist fellows what ever lived, moved in. Wal, ye see them woods, yander?” “Yes.” “Not more ’en fifty yard away.” “Just about that.” “Wal, do you know thet thet man war too cussed lazy to go to them woods for fire wood, and so tore down thet wing, piece by piece, flooring, sidings, window sashes, doors--everything but the loft and roof, and he’d a took them ef he hadn’t been too lazy to climb up stairs.” “Wonder he didn’t take the whole house.” “I spect he would ef I hadn’t bought him out when I did. Why, man! this whole farm-yard was an apple orchard then. How many trees do you see now?” “Three.” “That’s all. Chopped down, every damned one of ’em, for the fire-place. Lazy, why, dog my skin!--” “Where is he now?” “He lives in a poor chunk of a cabin over in them woods, close enough now to fire-wood, shore.” Down further on the Valley river the landscape grows more open, and the rugged mountains become softened down to undulating hills, drawn far back from the stream, and leaving between them wide vales, rich in soil, generous in crops, and in places over three miles in width. This is in Cherokee, the extreme southwest county of North Carolina. Murphy, the county-seat, is a small, weather-worn village, located in nearly the center of the county. The Western North Carolina Railroad, as projected, will, on its way to Ducktown, soon intersect it.