It was then that Barney showed the greatness of his soul.  In the confusion of the moment we had run afoul of a stout young oak, which obstinately menaced the integrity of our axle.  It was only possible to back out of the predicament, but Barney scorned the thought of retreat.  Not all the blandishments of the Small Boy, whether brought to bear in the form of entreaties, remonstrances, jerks or threats, availed:  Barney stood unmoved, and the hatchet was our only resource.  How that mule’s eye twinkled as from time to time he cast a backward glance upon the Small Boy wrestling with a dull hatchet and a sturdy young scrub-oak under the pelting rain, amid lightning-flash and thunder-peal, needs a more graphic pen than mine to describe.  A better-drenched biped than climbed into the wagon at the close of this episode, or a more thoroughly-satisfied quadruped than jogged along before him, it would be difficult to find.

As suddenly as they had come up the clouds rolled away, and sunlight flamed out from the west—­so suddenly that it caught the rain halfway and filled the air with tremulous rainbow hues.  Then burst out afresh the songs of birds, sweet scents thrilled up from flower and shrub, the very earth was fragrant, and fresh, resinous odors exhaled from every tree.  The sun sank down in gold and purple glory and night swept over the dark woods.  Myriad fireflies flitted round, insects chirped in every hollow, the whippoorwill called from the distant thicket, the night-hawk circled in the open glade.  A cheerful sound of cow-bells broke the noisy stillness, the forest opened upon a row of dark buildings and darker orange trees, and barking of dogs and kindly voices told us that rest was at hand.

No words can do justice to the hospitality of Floridians, whether native or foreign.  We were now to begin an experience which was to last us through our entire journey.  Here we were, a wandering company of who-knows-what, arriving hungry, drenched and unexpected long after the supper-hour, and our mere appearance was the “open sesame” to all the treasures of house and barn.  Not knowing what our hap might be, we had gone provided with blankets and food, but both proved to be superfluous wherever we could find a house.  Bad might be the best it afforded, but the best was at our service.  At K——­’s Ferry it was decidedly not bad.  Abundance reigned there, though in a quaint old fashion, and very soon after our arrival we were warming and drying ourselves before a cheerful fire, while from the kitchen came most heartening sounds and smells, as of fizzling ham and bubbling coffee.