A "Thousand- Mile Walk 



my ears could not hear wave-dashing at that 

 distance. Yet every bit of spray was sounding 

 in my ears. 



The subject brings to mind a few recollec- 

 tions of the winds I heard in my late journey. 

 In my walk from Indiana to the Gulf, earth 

 and sky, plants and people, and all things 

 changeable were constantly changing. Even 

 in Kentucky nature and art have many a 

 characteristic shibboleth. The people differ in 

 language and in customs. Their architecture 

 is generically different from that of their im- 

 mediate neighbors on the north, not only in 

 planters' mansions, but in barns and granaries 

 and the cabins of the' poor. But thousands of 

 familiar flower faces looked from every hill 

 and valley. I noted no difference in the sky, 

 and the winds spoke the same things. I did 

 not feel myself in a strange land. 



In Tennessee my eyes rested upon the first 

 mountain scenery I ever beheld. I was rising 

 higher than ever before; strange trees were be- 

 ginning to appear; alpine flowers and shrubs 

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