to sleep, and it appears that the polite young gentleman followed my example. About four o'clock in the morning one of the passengers shook me, and asked:
"Aunty, don't you want to get out at Eude's Hill?"
I started up, rubbing my eyes. "Yes. Are we there?"
"More than there. We have passed it."
"Passed it!"
"Yes. It is six miles back. You should not sleep so soundly, Aunty."
"Why did you not tell me sooner? I am so anxious to be there."
"Fact is, I forgot it. Never mind. Get out at this village, and you can find conveyance back."
The village, New Market, was in a dilapidated condition; everything about it spoke plainly of the sad destruction of war. Getting out of the stage I went into a house, by courtesy named a hotel, where I obtained a cup of coffee.
