I plodded along through the town and crossed the Cumberland river
on a ferry-boat, and then pulled out in a northerly direction for
about an hour, when I came to a farm-house. In the road in front
of the house I met the proprietor who was going from his garden,
opposite the house, to his breakfast.

He waited until I came up, and as I was about to pass on, he said:
"Hello! my boy, where are you going so early this morning?"

I told him I was on my way to St. Louis.

"St. Louis?" he said. "I never heard of that place before. Where
is it?"

I told him I thought it was in Missouri, but was not certain.

"Are you going all the way on foot, and alone?"

I answered that I was, and that I had no other way to go. With
that I started on.

"Hold on," he said. "If you are going to walk that long way you
had better come in and have some breakfast."

You may rest assured that I did not wait for a second invitation,
for about that time I was as hungry as I had ever been in my life.

While we were eating breakfast the farmer turned to his oldest
daughter and said: