got my big cigar-case, &c., out on my knees—­as getting at your pockets, when once packed, was impossible—­and entering boldly with my weed at high pressure, down I sat.  We all gradually shook into our places.  Very soon a passenger looked me steadily in the face; he evidently was going to speak; I quailed inwardly, dreading he was going to object to the smell of smoke.  Oh, joyous sight! a cigar appeared between his fingers, and the re-assuring words came forth—­“A light, sir, if you please.”  I never gave one more readily in my life.  Gradually, passenger after passenger produced cigars; the aroma filled the coach, and the fragrance of the weed triumphed over the foetor of the polecat.  Six insides out of nine hard at it, and four of them with knock-me-down Virginia tobacco, the single human odour could not contend against such powerful odds; as well might a musquito sneeze against thunder.  I always loved a cigar; but here I learnt its true value in a desperate emergency.

On we went, puffing, pumping, and jolting, till at last we came to a stand on the banks of a river.  As there was a reasonable probability of the mail shooting into the stream on its descent, we were told to get out, on doing which we found ourselves pleasantly situated about a foot deep in mud; the mail got down safe into an open ferry-boat with two oars, and space for passengers before the horses or behind the coach.  The ferry was but for a few minutes, and we then had to ascend another bank of mud, at the top of which we retook our seats in the mail, bringing with us in the aggregate, about a hundredweight of fine clay soil, with which additional cargo we continued our journey.  One o’clock brought us to Elizabeth Town, and dinner; the latter was very primitive, tough, and greasy.

Once more we entered our cells, and continued our route, the bad road getting worse and worse, rarely allowing us to go out of a walk.  Two of our fellow-passengers managed to make themselves as offensive as possible.  They seemed to be travelling bagmen of the lowest class.  Conversation they had none, but by way of appearing witty, they kept repeating over and over again some four or five stories, laughing at one another’s tales, which were either blasphemous or beastly—­so much so, that I would most willingly have compounded for two more human polecats in lieu of them.  I must say, that although all classes mix together in public conveyances, this was the first time I had ever found people conduct themselves in so disgusting a manner.  We soon came to another river, and getting out, enjoyed a second mud walk, bringing in with us as before a rich cargo of clay soil; and after a continuous and increasing jolting, which threatened momentary and universal dislocation, we arrived, after a drive of twenty-one hours, at our journey’s end—­i.e., at “Old Bell’s,” so called from the proprietor of the inn.  Here we were to pass the night, or rather the remainder of it, the mail going on to Nashville, and taking our foetid bodkin on with it.  But, alas! the two more disagreeable passengers before alluded to remained, as they had suddenly made up their minds to stay and visit the Mammoth Cave.