kitchen chairs, not enough easier to sit in than the changes of baggage to justify the expense.
Meanwhile, sewing at the sacks, we take a peep at the chinks and corners of the cabin. The day is intensely hot ; flies are having a home-like frolic, up midway in the room, and number more than ever I saw in one room before. They do not, however, seem inclined to interfere with us, their happiness being complete in the warmth of the day and the merry roominess of the space between us and the rafters. Soon I see coming down the beam near me a cricket>looking body, only large as a half-dozen home crickets. I move suddenly, but say, very quietly, "Ned, what lodger is this?" He is intimately acquainted with them, for he points to quite a small army of them in another direction, and says, "Only crickets. Everything grows large in this country. They won't hurt you. Why, they lived here by right before we came." Verily the boy is more of a philosopher than his mother. Will she ever get rid of her fear of bugs?
Now comes the man with two narrow frames for beds, into which I have cords laced, after
