WHEN you would ride up to a pioneer’s cabin the first thing was the hounds’ “boo,” “boo,” then all would come to the door. “Come in,” “come in.” You go in, you see from one to three rifle guns in the rack, you also see deer-skins and turkey-wings all about the house. “Have you had your dinner?” “No.” “Gals, get him some dinner.” You find plenty of milk and butter, bread, venison, potatoes, and almost everything that grows on the farm or in the woods. You speak of going. “Oh, stay all night.” You conclude to stay; then you must tell your name and where you live, and how long you have lived there, how many children you have, who you married, and where you come from, also how many deer you have killed this winter. You are expected to tell it all, and the children will size you up very carefully; and then by the time the man tells you all he knows, and the woman tells you all she knows, and all that her mother knew, and all that her grandmother knew, and all the children tell you all they know, you do not get much sleep.