Over These I Was Taken,
Plowing My Way Through A Depth Of Mud Which Cannot Be Understood By
Any Ordinary Englishman.
But the depth of mud was not the only
impediment nor the worst which we encountered.
As we began to
ascend from the level of the outskirts of the town we were greeted
by a rising flavor in the air, which soon grew into a strong odor,
and at last developed itself into a stench that surpassed in
offensiveness anything that my nose had ever hitherto suffered.
When we were at the worst we hardly knew whether to descend or to
proceed. It had so increased in virulence that at one time I felt
sure that it arose from some matter buried in the ground beneath my
feet. But my friend, who declared himself to be quite at home in
Cincinnati matters, and to understand the details of the great
Cincinnati trade, declared against this opinion of mine. Hogs, he
said, were at the bottom of it. It was the odor of hogs going up to
the Ohio heavens - of hogs in a state of transit from hoggish nature
to clothes-brushes, saddles, sausages, and lard. He spoke with an
authority that constrained belief; but I can never forgive him in
that he took me over those hills, knowing all that he professed to
know. Let the visitors to Cincinnati keep themselves within the
city, and not wander forth among the mountains. It is well that the
odor of hogs should ascend to heaven and not hang heavy over the
streets; but it is not well to intercept that odor in its ascent.
My friend became ill with fever, and had to betake himself to the
care of nursing friends; so that I parted company with him at
Cincinnati.
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