hut to hut, until the way becomes too steep to ride, and we leave our
horses and climb, on foot, the lofty, rocky ridges.

We find men who were reckless and bad ready to listen to God's Word, and
in broken voices asking for prayers. We find women who have lived lives
of open shame penitent and contrite, showing by their abandonment of
their evil ways that they are sincere when they say, oh so earnestly,
"We uns air tryin' ter do right."

But all is not so encouraging. We must visit homes where vice reigns
supreme; where women are lost to shame, and glory in their sin; where
even the children have the "trail of the serpent" upon their young
faces; where the men are brutal and beastly, and even sickness does not
_touch_ them.

Let us call at this old log house as we pass; nestled under a high
cliff, with the creek flowing past, it looks like some ugly blot on the
"face of nature." But it is a _school-house_. There is no window, no
chimney, only a hole in the side of the house, opening into a sort of
pen of rocks, in which the fire is built; an admirable arrangement to
send all the heat out of doors, and the smoke into the house. Several
rough benches (that do not invite to ease or comfort) and an ancient
chair complete the furniture of the room. Several boards painted black
form the "blackboards." Here we find two tattered urchins and three tiny
girls, whose faces have evidently not made the acquaintance of soap and
water for some days.

The teacher is one of the advanced pupils of our academy--a bright young
man, who will attend our school when his is completed. We ask where the
rest of the scholars are.