United States or Uruguay ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
We are housed this night on the Kentucky side, a mile-and-a-half above Cloverport, whose half-dozen lights are glimmering in the stream. In the gloaming, while dinner was being prepared, a ragged but sturdy wanderer came into camp.
Leaving Louisville next morning, he intended to make the run to Cloverport, over one hundred miles below, without leaving the water. There was a strong head wind all day, turning the yellow waves of the Ohio over his face, and night closed in with dark, low hanging clouds. An electric storm began to rage about him.
We stopped to take a snap-shot at them, to the intense satisfaction of the little kink-haired mother of the twins, who, barring her blue calico gown, looked as if she might have just stepped out of a Zulu group. Cloverport has brick-works, gas wells, a flouring-mill, and other industries.
We made the stranger no offer of a seat at our humble board, having no desire that he pass the night in our neighborhood; for darkness was coming on apace, and, if he long tarried, the woodland road would be as black as a pocket before he could reach Cloverport, his alleged destination. So starting him off with a biscuit or two, he was soon on his way toward the village, whistling a lively tune.
Fearing that his copper bugle would attract the lightning, he lowered it as far under the water as he could. All night he ran through that fearful storm, arriving at Cloverport very tired. He rested there several hours and ran to Owensboro.
Word Of The Day