A WORLD OF GREEN HILLS 



A DAY'S DRIVE IN THREE STATES 



IN a day and a night I had come from 

 early May to middle June ; from a world of 

 bare boughs to a forest clad in all the ver- 

 dure of summer. Such a shine as the big, 

 lusty leaves of the black-jack oaks had put 

 on ! I could have raised a shout. In the 

 day when " all the trees of the field shall 

 clap their hands," may I be somewhere in 

 the black-jack's neighborhood. Hour after 

 hour we sped along, out of North Carolina 

 into South Carolina : now through miles and 

 miles of forest; now past a lonely cabin, 

 with roses before the door, white honey- 

 suckle covering the fence, and acres of sunny 

 ploughed land on either side. Here a river 

 ran between close green hills, and there the 

 hills parted and disclosed the revolving hori- 

 zon set with blue mountains. Then, at a 



