projected so that he had a roof some fifty feet long and ten or fifteen wide.  My mind went back eighteen hundred years and more to another stable in a rock and the wonderful scene enacted there.  It was not easy to believe that the little cabins, looking like miniature houses which might be built by boys for play, were actually homes, occupied by families, father, mother and eight or ten children; but such is the case.

Seven miles of constantly changing pictures, but all beautiful, brought me to Rockhold, a name I had supposed derived from its physical characteristics, but which I was informed was given in respect to a family formerly the most important in the vicinity but now quite gone.  I made my way to the little church.  In front was a huge wagon and in a little grove at the back several horses tied.  I had been informed that I might safely address any man I found prominent, as “Elliott,” and as I entered I so accosted an elderly man whom I found in charge of a large class of young men.  About fifty were present, Mr. Elliott being the only male teacher, three young ladies, two of whom I learned had been educated at Berea, having charge of classes.  After the lesson I addressed the people.  The characteristic that impresses me more than any other is their solemn seriousness.  They listen intently and with great eagerness.  They are hungry for preaching and feel it a great hardship that they can only have it occasionally.  Their faces were a study.  There was hardly a weak one among them and many bore the impress of great strength.  But I would as soon have told a story or joked at a funeral as under their serious eyes.

The meeting over, several invited me to “go by” and take dinner, and I accepted the first offer, which was made by a nice looking young lady in mourning, who urged her claim by saying:  “All the preachers go to our house and father will be so disappointed if he don’t see you; he couldn’t come to-day.”

This country has not yet got to the point of thinking bridges necessary and roads are not for those who sit on springs and cushions.  I never wished so much for a “Kodak” that I might carry away a picture which I shall always have in memory.  To the long wagon, which had a high rack all around it, were yoked a pair of milk-white oxen, round and handsome.  In front was seated Mrs. Elliott, holding her youngest child.  At her side a boy, perhaps twelve, who guided the team by a line attached to a horn.  Seated on chairs were nine young ladies and girls, nearly all in pretty white dresses.

Two miles of beautiful scenery and we reach the farm house, a commodious and substantial rural home, of John Elliott, who gave me a cordial welcome and soon the long table in the kitchen was spread with such a meal as I had not enjoyed in many a day.  The menu did not record many French dishes, but everything was good, abundant and wholesome.