This refers to the early trader; the house-boater of the later day was not, primarily, engaged in any trade, though many were. Nearly every kind of a shop known on land has floated on the Ohio. As a class, however, the proprietors of these craft were, and are, fishermen. "Queer people you meet on the river," wrote a correspondent who recently journeyed down the Ohio by canoe, "but perhaps the most interesting of all are the 'shanty-boat' tribe. We had had a long, hard morning's pull against head winds and had made little progress, were behind time and were discouraged. We were passing the lone shanty-boat of a river tradesman, tied up on shore, waiting for the wind 'to lay.' Chris hailed him and asked leave to boil coffee on his stove. I expected a rebuff, but the trader cordially invited us to 'walk in, gentlemen; you seem ruther fagged. Set down, set down. I seen you uns a passin' us above t'other day, but this old tortus runs night and day and gits ahead of the rabbit sometimes while you're taking a nap.' And so the loquacious old chap ran on. Glad of a rest, we stayed and drifted with him some ten or twelve miles that night, bunking on a pile of bags in a corner. To be sure the wily old fox turned our visit to his profit. He proved to us plainly, by river logic, what our experience had already shown--that we had certain cumbrous baggage that ought to be disposed of, and he bought it of us for a song, 'jest to accommodate you uns, you know; I'm allers a-buyin' a lot o' no-account truck, jest to help folks out.' Very likely! But the information he gave proved so valuable, his bacon tasted so good, that night spent with him drifting and resting was so pleasant--what did I care if it was all a scheme to strike a trade. Long into the night I sat with him as he steered his clumsy craft and shouted his queerly quavered songs. Finally he lapsed into silence. The frogs took up the song and had a monopoly, except for the gurgling of the water and the distant baying of a hound. I was just ready to feel romantic and silently soliloquizing the moon, when I heard a loud whisper from the other end of the shanty-boat, as one of the trader's young hopefuls said to his brother, 'Say, Bill, let's take the skiff and go ashore and steal that hound barking.' 'Shet up, you young rascal,' said the old man, never losing his good humor. 'You've got dogs enough a'ready to start a Noah's Ark. What do yer want with any more? You roll in.' Many kinds of people inhabit these shanty-boats. These boats are built at a cost of from twenty dollars up to two or three hundred. The ground to build on is free. There is no rent to pay. There is change of air and scenery. One house serves for winter and summer residences--the current and towboat carrying you back and forth. You can always be traveling, yet always at home. Your livelihood is gained sometimes one way, sometimes another--who questions? A man builds such a home, puts