New Walks in Old Ways 



tingly commemorates the flowing of 

 that human tide. On and on, still 

 further on, they passed, till presently 

 the valley of Kentucky, in all its 

 dreamy beauty, opened far below. 

 The axe and plow were soon at work, 

 and another little home had come into 

 existence, but not for long. The Ohio 

 River's current called. Beyond its 

 channel lay another Paradise! The 

 spirit of unrest would not be stilled 

 in the young man's heart. Children 

 had come to share whatever might 

 betide, and, against the mother's mild 

 but useless protest, a second journey 

 was begun. Surely something more 

 to be desired was yet ahead. 



The spinning wheel was set to work, 

 and deft fingers plied the loom. Good 

 homespun garments came from hands 

 that had been more familiar in the 

 earlier days with embroideries and 

 laces. Westward! Northward! God 

 knows where! The river is crossed in 

 safety. The Miami reached. But not 

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