would be found too heavy for his team. It was no uncommon sight to see a score of places to the mile where the fences had been torn down and rails carried into the middle of the road to be used in prying the wagons out of the mud when hopelessly mired. The reason the hotel bills did not consume the proceeds of the load was that there were none; for the farmer carried his camp kettle, bedding, and provisions with him, and slept in the wagon during his entire trip. The same farmer referred to, in telling his story, said that all the money spent on the ten days’ trip was three “fips” (18¾ cents), and that, presumably, was for three “nips” of whiskey. An interesting personal experience in the winter of 1846–47 was in driving hogs from Anderson, Ind., to Cincinnati, Ohio, a distance of about 150 miles. The drove was started with the mercury at zero, and the first difficulty met was in getting them across White River, as there was no bridge and the stream must be forded. The hogs absolutely refused to enter the icy water, but the pioneer of that day was equal to any emergency. The drove was soon huddled on the bank, rails were carried from an adjoining field, and a close pen was built around them; then two plucky frontiersmen, with thick leggings reaching from ankle to hips, towed them by the ears to frozen shoal water in the centre of the river, and pushed them across the ice, when they were obliged to go ashore on the other side. Two days later a sudden and unexpected thaw set in, when for one hundred weary miles the drivers urged the hogs through mud which reached from fence to fence, and which was so fluid that not a trace was left behind, as it flowed in to fill not only the track of the hogs but the footsteps of the drivers. When after days of urging the hogs began to lose strength and fall by the way, they settled down into the ooze, from which the men must lift them into wagons which accompanied the drove or were hired from farmers along the road. When Cincinnati was reached it seemed that the worst trouble of the journey was over; but not so, for the climax of disaster with this drove was reached at the slaughter-house, when for two weeks the weather was so warm that no slaughtering could be done, and the price of pork declined day by day, until the entire drove was finally sold at one and three quarters cents per pound dressed weight—and during the entire time, both on the road and in the pens, the hogs had been losing rapidly in weight every day. This was the lowest price recalled for hogs; but it was very common to have a glut in the market of some staple which reduced the price so low that it scarcely paid for transportation, and in some cases made it actually unsalable. [Illustration: SOIL PULVERIZER.]