I had just fallen into a gentle slumber， when a chorus of pronounced grunts and a spasmodic shaking of the carriage revealed to me the fact that I was surrounded by those long-nosed black pigs， so celebrated for their courage and pertinacity. They had discovered that the iron steps of the carriage made most satisfactory scratching posts， and each one was struggling for his turn. This scratching suggested fleas. Alas！ thought I， before morning I shall be devoured. I was mortally tired and sleepy， but I reached for the whip and plied it lazily from side to side； but I soon found nothing but a constant and most vigorous application of the whip could hold them at bay one moment. I had heard that this type of pig was very combative when thwarted in its desires， and they seemed in such sore need of relief that I thought there was danger of their jumping into the carriage and attacking me. This thought was more terrifying than that of the fleas， so I decided to go to sleep and let them alone to scratch at their pleasure. I had a sad night of it， and never tried the carriage again， though I had many equally miserable experiences within four walls.
After one of these border meetings we stopped another night with a family of two bachelor brothers and two spinster sisters. The home consisted of one large room， not yet lathed and plastered. The furniture included a cooking stove， two double beds in remote corners， a table， a bureau， a washstand， and six wooden chairs. As it was late， there was no fire in the stove and no suggestion of supper， so the Governor and I ate apples and chewed slippery elm before retiring to dream of comfortable beds and well-spread tables in the near future.
The brothers resigned their bed to me just as it was. I had noticed that there was no ceremonious changing of bed linen under such circumstances， so I had learn to nip all fastidious notions of individual cleanliness in the bud， and to accept the inevitable. When the time arrived for retiring， the Governor and the brothers went out to make astronomical observations or smoke， as the case might be， while the sisters and I made our evening toilet， and disposed ourselves in the allotted corners. That done， the stalwart sons of Adam made their beds with skins and blankets on the floor.
When all was still and darkness reigned， I reviewed the situation with a heavy heart， seeing that I was bound to remain a prisoner in the corner all night， come what might. I had just congratulated myself on my power of adaptability to circumstances， when I suddenly started with an emphatic "What is that？" A voice from the corner asked， "Is your bed comfortable？"
"Oh， yes，" I replied， "but I thought I felt a mouse run over my head."
"Well，" said the voice from the corner， "I should not wonder. I have heard such squeaking from that corner during the past week that I told sister there must be a mouse nest in that bed." A confession she probably would not have made unless half asleep. This announcement was greeted with suppressed laughter from the floor. But it was no laughing matter to me. Alas！ what a prospect杢o have mice running over one all night. But there was no escape.
The sisters did not offer to make any explorations， and， in my fatigue costume， I could not light a candle and make any on my own account. The house did not afford an armchair in which I could sit up. I could not lie on the floor， and the other bed was occupied. Fortunately， I was very tired and soon fell asleep. What the mice did the remainder of the night I never knew， so deep were my slumbers. But， as my features were intact， and my facial expression as benign as usual next morning， I inferred that their gambols had been most innocently and decorously conducted. These are samples of many similar experiences which we encountered during the three months of those eventful travels.
Heretofore my idea had been that pioneer life was a period of romantic *******. When the long， white-covered wagons， bound for the far West， passed by， I thought of the novelty of a six-month's journey through the bright spring and summer days in a house on wheels， meals under shady trees and beside babbling brooks， sleeping in the open air， and finding a home， at last， where land was cheap， the soil rich and deep， and where the grains， vegetables， fruit， and flowers grew bountifully with but little toil. But a few months of pioneer life permanently darkened my rosy ideal of the white-covered wagon， the charming picnics by the way， and the paradise at last. I found many of these adventurers in unfinished houses and racked with malaria； in one case I saw a family of eight， all ill with chills and fever. The house was half a mile from the spring water on which they depended and from which those best able， from day to day， carried the needed elixir to others suffering with the usual thirst. Their narrations of all the trials of the long journey were indeed heartrending.
