The valley was long and narrow, with mountains on both sides so high
that the day was materially shortened in the morning and at night. The
tardy sun was ardent when he came, but disturbed us little. The nights
were blissful--beds so soft and sweet and a canopy so beautiful! In the
morning we awoke to the tender call of cooing doves, and very soon lined
up for breakfast in the perfectly ventilated out-of-doors. Happy days
they were! Wise and genial Captain Snyder, Sonnichsen, the patient cook,
Jim Brock, happy tormentor--how clearly they revisit the glimpses of the
moon!

Returning to Uniontown, I resumed my placid, busy life, helping in the
garden, around the house, and in the post-office. My father was wise in
his treatment. Boylike I would say, "Father, what shall I do?" He would
answer, "Look around and find out. I'll not always be here to tell
you." Thrown on my own resources, I had no trouble in finding enough to
do, and I was sufficiently normal and indolent to be in no danger of
finding too much.

The post-office is a harborer of secrets and romance. The postmaster and
his assistants alone know "Who's Who." A character of a packer, tall,
straight, and bearded, always called Joe the Marine, would steal in and
call for comely letters addressed to James Ashhurst, Esq. Robert Desty
was found to be Mons. Robert d'Esti Mauville. A blacksmith whose letters
were commonly addressed to C.E. Bigelow was found entitled to one
inscribed C.E.D.L.B. Bigelow. Asked what his full name was, he
replied, "Charles Edward Decatur La Fitte Butterfield Bigelow." And,
mind you, he was a _blacksmith_! His christening entitled him to it all,
but he felt that all he could afford was what he commonly used.

Phonetics have a distinct value. Uncertain of spelling, one can fall