Once more we entered our cells, and continued our route, the bad road getting worse and worse, rarely allowing us to go out of a walk. Two of our fellow-passengers managed to make themselves as offensive as possible. They seemed to be travelling bagmen of the lowest class. Conversation they had none, but by way of appearing witty, they kept repeating over and over again some four or five stories, laughing at one another's tales, which were either blasphemous or beastly--so much so, that I would most willingly have compounded for two more human polecats in lieu of them. I must say, that although all classes mix together in public conveyances, this was the first time I had ever found people conduct themselves in so disgusting a manner. We soon came to another river, and getting out, enjoyed a second mud walk, bringing in with us as before a rich cargo of clay soil; and after a continuous and increasing jolting, which threatened momentary and universal dislocation, we arrived, after a drive of twenty-one hours, at our journey's end--i.e., at "Old Bell's," so called from the proprietor of the inn. Here we were to pass the night, or rather the remainder of it, the mail going on to Nashville, and taking our foetid bodkin on with it. But, alas! the two more disagreeable passengers before alluded to remained, as they had suddenly made up their minds to stay and visit the Mammoth Cave.
Old Bell is a venerable specimen of seventy odd years of age, and has been here, I believe, half a century nearly. One of his daughters, I am told, is very pretty. She is married to a senator of the United States, and keeps one of the most agreeable houses in Washington. The old gentleman is said to be worth some money, but he evidently is determined to die in harness. As regularly as the mail arrives, about one in the morning, so regularly does he turn out and welcome the passengers with a glass of mixed honey, brandy, and water. The beverage and the donor reminded me forcibly of "Old Crerer," and the "Athole Brose," with which he always welcomed those who visited him in his Highland cottage. Having got beds to ourselves--after repeated requests to roost two in a nest, as the house was small--I soon tumbled into my lair, and in the blessed forgetfulness of sleep the miseries of the day became mingled with the things that were. The next morning, after breakfast, we got a conveyance to take the party over to the Cave, a distance of seven miles. One may really say there is no road. For at least one half of the way there is nothing but a rugged track of rock and roots of trees, ever threatening the springs of the carriage and the limbs of the passenger with frightful fractures. However, by walking over the worst of it, you protect the latter and save the former, thus rendering accidents of rare occurrence.