A Thousand-Mile Walk 



who has a single thought. I also met a brother, 

 Scotchman, who was especially interesting and 

 had some ideas outside of Southern politics. 

 Altogether my half-day and night on board the 

 steamer were pleasant, and carried me past 

 a very sickly, entangled, overflowed, and un- 

 walkable piece of forest. 



It is pretty well known that a short geologi- 

 cal time ago the ocean covered the sandy level 

 margin, extending from the foot of the AUe- 

 ghanies to the present coast-line, and in re- 

 ceding left many basins for lakes and swamps. 

 The land is still encroaching on the sea, and it 

 does so not evenly, in a regular line, but in 

 fringing lagoons and inlets and dotlike coral 

 islands. 



It is on the coast strip of isles and peninsulas 

 that sea-island cotton is grown. Some of these 

 small islands are afloat, anchored only by the 

 roots of mangroves and rushes. For a few 

 hours our steamer sailed in the open sea, ex- 

 posed to its waves, but most of the time 

 she threaded her way among the lagoons, the 

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