"Yep." I next inquired whether the stage made connections with the train on the other road. "Wal, yes, it gineraley does." "Why, does it not to-morrow?" "Guess not." "Why?" "Cos' of the ternado." "Tornado?" "Yes; didn't ye know we had a ternado?" "No." "Well, we did, ye know; tore the trees up hullsale, and just played Ned. Rain cum down like suds." "Well, can I get a buggy or wagon?" "Guess not; both out in the woods; can't git home." I felt sick at hearing this; for how to get across with two grips filled with books, theological books too, troubled me. I slept little. My room was bare; the rain pattering on the roof, the mosquitoes inside, and my own thoughts, routed me out early Saturday morning. I was pleased to find that the man had returned with the wagon, and after much persuasion, I engaged him for five dollars to take me across. We started off with an axe. The old settlers laughed at our attempt, but we were young. Over the fallen trees we went bumping along; but, alas, we tried too big a maple, and out came the reach-pole and left us balanced on the tree. After a tiring walk through the "shin-tangles"--that is, ground hemlock--we reached the road, and mounted bareback. We met some commercial travellers cutting their way through, with a settler's help, passed a horse and buggy (minus a driver), with a bottle of whiskey in the bottom. We then had the good fortune to borrow a single wagon of a minister, who lived near on a farm. Our horses had to walk in the water by the edge of the lake, and the leeches fastened on them by the dozen. Finally we met the stage, and knew our way was clear. We were drenched with the rain, but it was clearing, and so we cheered up. I asked the stage-driver whether I could catch the train. He said, "Well, if ye _drive_, ye can." The emphasis he put into the drive made us whip up. Presently the village could be seen, a half-mile away. The engine was on the turntable. How fast it went around! I was getting nervous. I asked the man to get my grips out, while I got my ticket; and rushing into the office, I snapped out, "Ticket for ----!" The man turned his head with a jerk, and stared at me so intently that I thought something was wrong. So I said, "What time does the train start?" "In about an hour." You could have knocked me over with a feather. I felt like Sir Francis Drake, when his vessel seemed to be going over in the Thames. "What! have I sailed the ocean," said he, "to be drowned in a ditch?" So, I thought, "Have I come a hundred miles out of my way, to miss the train?"