When I arrived at Bradford the young men watched me tug at my satchels as I got off, all alone, in the darkness of the midnight hour. I knew my brother would not be expecting me, and had made up my mind to take the street cars and go to the St. James. But no street cars were in waiting and only one carriage. "Go to the ----, lady?" "No, I don't know that house," I replied; and giving my satchels in the ticket agent's care, I started out in the darkness, across the bridge, past dark streets and alleys, straight up Main street, past open saloons and billiard halls, but not a policeman in sight. So I kept an eye looking out on each side while I walked straight ahead with as firm and measured tread as though I commanded a regiment of soldiers, and I guess the clerk at the St. James thought I did, for he gave me an elegant suite of rooms with three beds. I gave two of them to my imaginary guards, and knelt at the other to thank the dear Father that He had brought me safely so near home. "How much for my lodging?" I asked, in the morning. "Seventy-five cents." I almost choked as I repeated, "Seventy-five cents! Won't you please take fifty?" "Why?" "Because it is all the money I have, except a nickel." "I suppose it will have to do," he said, and I jingled my fifty cents on the counter as loudly as though it was a whole dollar, but could not help laughing heartily at the low ebb of my finances. The several little extras I had met with had taken about all. I then went to find brother Charlie's boarding-place and surprised him at the breakfast table. August 1st, Charley and I visited Rock City, or rather, the city of rocks, just across the New York line. Houses of rock they are in size, but are only inhabited by sight-seers. I wish I could describe them to you, reader. All I know is, they are conglomerate rocks, made up of snowy white pebbles from the size of a pea to a hickory nut, that glisten in the sunlight, making the rocks a crystal palace. As I dig and try to dislodge the brightest from its bed of hardened sand, I wonder how God made the cement that holds them so firmly in place, and how and why He brought these rocks to the surface just here and nowhere else. Down, around, and under the rocks we climbed, getting lost in the great crevices, and trying to carve our names on the walls with the many that are chiseled there, but only succeeded in making "our mark." They are one of the beautiful, wonderful things that are beyond description.