Refused shelter
In fact, the Illinoisians seem to be most excellent folks. After three days' journey through the great Prairie State my head is fairly turned with kindness and flattery; but the third night, as if to rebuke my vanity, I am bluntly refused shelter at three different farm-houses. I am benighted, and conclude to make the best of it by "turning in" under a hay-cock; but the Fox River mosquitoes oust me in short order, and compel me to "mosey along" through the gloomy night to Yorkville.