"I can't sing that; 'twas the last song I sung with my brothers and sisters the night before I left my Kentucky home, nine years ago, and I don't think I have tried to sing it since." All along the valley faint lights glimmered from lonely little homes. I thought every cottager should have an Alpine horn, and as the sun goes down, a "good night" shouted from east to west along the valley, until it echoed from bluff to bluff. But the longest journey must have an end, and at last we halted at Mr. A.'s door, too late for me to go farther. But was off early in the morning on horseback, with Zeke Butterbaugh, who was herding for Mr. A., to take his mother by surprise, and breakfast with her. Well, reader, I would not ask anyone, even my worst enemy, to go with me on that morning ride. Rough? There now, don't say anything more about it. It is good to forget some things; I can feel the top of my head flying off yet with every jolt, as that horse _tried_ to trot--perhaps it was my poke hat that was coming off. If the poor animal had had a shoe on, I would have quoted Mark Twain, hung my hat on its ear and looked for a nail in its foot. When we reached Mrs. B.'s home, we found it deserted, and we had to go three miles farther on. Six miles before breakfast. "Now, Zeke, we will go direct; take straight across and I will follow: mind, we don't want to be going round many corners." "Well, watch, or your horse will tramp in a gopher hole and throw you; can you stand another trot?" And I would switch my trotter, but would soon have to rein him up, and laugh at my attempt at riding. It was not long until we were within sight of the house where Zeke's sister lived, and when within hearing distance we ordered--"Breakfast for two!" When near the house we concentrated all our equestrian skill into a "grand gallop." Mrs. B. and Lydia were watching and wondering who was coming; but my laugh betrayed me, and when we drew reins on our noble ponies at the door, I was received with: "I just knew that was Pet Fulton by the laugh;" and as I slipped down, right into their arms, I thought after all the ride was well worth the taking, and the morning a grand one. Rising before the sun, I watched its coming, and the mirage on the river, showing distinctly the river, islands, and towns; but all faded away as the mirage died out, and then the ride over the green prairie, bright with flowers, and at eight o'clock breakfasting with old friends.