The Thurlows and their numerous clan are a fine-looking folk;
the men, sturdy, well set-up--a fighting people, yet generous, kindly
and hospitable. The women--gracious, lovely, and altogether charming.
Beyond the universally cherished idea of beautiful women, blooded
horses, and blue grass, my knowledge of Kentucky had been rather vague.
My information had been derived chiefly from my experience on various
Election Committees, where moonshiners, mountain feuds, and
double-barrelled shot guns played prominent parts. Commonwealths, like
communities, are advertised most widely by the _evils_ in their midst; a
fact which jolts the reformer and drives the optimist to drink. The
lordly manner of living, the immense estates, and the magnificent
hospitality of our hosts, was a revelation to me; and an occasional
reference by one of the older servants to the grandeur of antebellum
days indicated a condition of even greater splendor and luxury. But the
cruel hand of war had devastated and impoverished the country, the
slaves were freed, and the land for years lay untilled and neglected.
Marse Henry, the head of the house, was killed in almost the first
battle of the war. Marse Breckinridge died, a prisoner in Fort Warren,
and now Marse Preston had followed them to the land of shadows. Uncle
Eph'm, himself, was getting very feeble and helpless, and it would not
be long before he joined his loved ones on the other shore.
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