slightest suspicion of the defection. Everybody thought it impossible, but when I actually performed the feat they looked upon me as half a conjuror—particularly the stranger fox—and Mrs. Dickson thought it was hardly safe that I should occupy the front bedroom in a young ladies' boarding-school. I also amused them with the three jealous couples crossing the stream; we were all very merry, and I did more talking than I have accomplished in the same space of time for many a day. On our return home, the young gentleman who accompanied me said that if he had only known I was coming he would have gone from New York to Cincinnati, to escort me to Asheville (I did not tell him how very glad I was he did not know it); and on my expressing a wish to visit Mount Pisgah, he assured me that to the very next party that was made up he would be sure to see that I received an invitation. (I did not say he need not trouble himself, that I should get the invitation without his interference; I only thought all that, for I am growing very polite in my manners.)
. . . About a week ago I rode to the Sulphur Springs, which are about four miles from Asheville; they are not much resorted to, the country round being tangled and rather uninteresting. The springs, however, are situated in a delightful valley, through which the wind blew most refreshingly; a roofed platform is erected in the midst of the grass plat, the perfectly clear water welling up into a marble basin on one side, and then flowing away in a little rivulet. I found a country woman resting herself on the platform, with a bright, pleasant face and very communicative. I sat and talked to her and thought of the woman of Samaria; presently a bilious-looking Southerner came down and drank a dipper full of water, which dispelled all the illusion, for my imagination conjured up rice-swamps and clanking chains.
