“Then I heard the gals snickerin’ and laughin’ in the next room, and I begun to see how it was; Miss Mary was gone, and left me thar alone. “‘Whar’s my hat?’ ses I, pretty loud, so somebody might tell me; but they only laughed worse. “I begun to feel about the room, and the fust thing I knew, spang! goes my head agin a dore that was standin’ open. The fire flew, and I couldn’t help but swar a little. “‘Drot the dore,’ ses I, ‘whar’s my hat?’ “But nobody said nothin’, so I begun to think it war best to git out the best way I could, and never mind my hat. Well, I got through the parlor dor, after rakin’ my shins three or four times agin the chairs, and was falin’ along through the entry for the frunt dore; but somehow I was so flustrated that I tuk the rong way, and bimeby, kerslash I went, rite over Miss Stallinses spinnin’-wheel onto the floor! I hurt myself a good deal; but that didn’t make me half so mad as to hear then confounded gals a gigglin’ and laughin’ at me. “Oh!” said one of them, (it was Mis Kesiak, for I knowed her voice) “there goes mother’s wheel! My Lord!” I tried to set the thing up, but it seemed to have more’n twenty legs, and wouldn’t stand up nohow—maybe it was broke. I went out of the dore, but I hadn’t got down the steps, when bow! wow! wow! comes four or five infurnal grate big coon-dogs rite at me. “Git out! git out! hellow Cato! call off your dogs,” ses I, as loud as I could. But Cato was sound asleep, and if I hadn’t a run back into the hall, and got out of the frunt way as quick as I could, them devils would o’ chawed my bones for true. When I got to my horse, I felt like a feller just out of a hornet’s nest; and I reckon I went home a little of the quickest. Next mornin’ old Miss Stallins sent my hat by a little nigger; but I hain’t seed Mary Stallins sense. Now you see what comes of snuffin’ ashes over a soft wood fire. No more from Your frend, till deth, Jos. Jones. LETTER II. Pineville, August 29th, 1842. Dear Sir, Jest as I spected, only a thunderin’ sight wurse! You know I said that we wer gwine to have a betallion muster in Pineville. Well, the muster has tuck place, and I reckon sich other doins you never hearn of afore.