change of clothing, in a bag hung over my shoulders, and a few shot in the locker (a little money). I followed my friend’s direction to keep straight on until I came to the end of old Smith’s road, which was eighty miles from Cincinnati, then turn to the left and inquire. He said that Spencer was about twenty miles toward the west. I had quite a pleasant walk across the State of Ohio. If I remember correctly, every team I saw on the road came from the opposite direction, so that I did not get a ride in the whole eighty miles. I was seven days in making the journey, and managed to put up at a tavern each evening. I enjoyed the walk much. I shall never forget one scene which occurred. It was on the fifth day, in the afternoon. Feeling somewhat weary, I sat down upon the brow of a hill, under a large, shady tree, nearly opposite which was an old farmhouse, the only one in sight. While resting here, I saw a tall, elderly man, with white hair reaching to his shoulders, leaning on a staff, come out of the house and go into a little cluster of bushes directly opposite where I was sitting. I saw him kneel, clasp his hands together, and look up toward heaven, then in hushed tones utter, "Our Father which art in heaven." I doffed my hat and bowed my head in reverence. It was a prayer of thanks — very brief, but one of the most fervent I have ever listened to. I have witnessed many touching scenes, but this one impressed itself upon my memory as the grandest of them all.
Arriving at the end of the road, which led into another that ran at right angles, I turned to the left, as directed, and soon came to a place called the "four corners,"
