Finally I ventured upon a trip to Louisville, Ky., and, while it was my first introduction to that place, so cordially was I received by its citizens, so much was done to place me at ease, that I could but feel that I was revisiting a familiar spot and receiving the greetings of old-time friends; and, in spite of the heavy war pressure, it was financially the most successful visit I ever made, having sold five hundred volumes in the short space of two weeks, a fact in itself sufficient to exemplify the pervading spirit of its society, not one of whose members gave grudgingly, but with unhesitating and cheerful alacrity.

Thence I repaired to the “Blue Grass Country,” the garden spot of Kentucky, and to the city of Lexington, the reputation of whose beautiful women has reached from sea to sea and from pole to pole, and the name of whose hero, Henry Clay, has made the heart of our nation throb with exultant pride.  I was also a stranger there, yet I resolutely repaired to the Broadway, its principal hotel, trusting to the hospitality of its citizens.  Nor did I “count without a host,” for Mr. Lindsey, the proprietor, received me with courtly cordiality, installing us in an elegant suite of rooms upon the parlor floor, assigning us a servant in constant attendance, and urging us to feel at home.  At breakfast the succeeding morning he greeted us with the pleasant tidings that he had already sold sixteen volumes of my book, after which he came to our apartment with a huge market basket, which he insisted upon filling with books, adding that I was too delicate to go out with them myself.  This was a second time filled and emptied, and before dinner there was placed in my hands the proceeds of the sale of one hundred books.

My companion, amazed at his success, begged of him to let her know the secret, whereupon he said, laughingly:  “Well, you see, I am a Democrat and a Free Mason.  I talked politics to one, gave the society sign to another, and mixed a little religion with all.  So I could not fail to succeed.”

I could but feel, however, in spite of his jest, that his innate goodness was the Midas like touch, and that he bore in his own heart the “philosopher’s stone,” transforming all into gold.

It did not become necessary for me to appear in the streets of Lexington, yet I reaped a rich harvest of gain, and, above all, found a mine of wealth in the warm, true, loving, chivalric souls.  Nor did the kindness cease at the fountain-head, for the little ones of Mr. Lindsey’s family, laden with bead work, walked the streets of the city, trafficking for my benefit, returning with little hands empty of trinkets, but filled with money.

To crown all this kindness I was only allowed, upon leaving, to pay half the usual price for board, receiving letters of introduction to the Capital House, of Frankfort, whose proprietor extended the same liberality of terms, and whose citizens kindly and freely patronized me.