A WOODLAND SCENE. 18 
always patriotic. The visitors then proceed to 
the tables groaning under the choice stores 
_ of Kentucky’s prolific land. To toasts and 
speeches succeed the dance—groups in fairy- 
like attire, fluttering in the woodland recesses, 
locking like the meeting of divinities of clas- 
sic story, or the genil of mytholigic lore. 
In the hilarity of the féte, all unhesitatingly 
mingle—no ball-room etiquette, artifice or pomp 
to alloy their pleasures. Some, ignoring the 
dance, show their dexterity at the rifle, or dis- 
play the swiftness of their fine Virginian 
coursers; hunters relate their exploits, and tra- 
vellers tell their tales. 
At length comes the preparation for depar- 
ture, when, loth to separate, the lover hastens to 
escort his fair one, friend seizes the arm of friend, 
families gather into loving groups for their 
homeward journey, and so ends a Kentucky 
Barbecue. 
A rare fertility characterizes the State of Ken- 
tucky as it verges southwards toward the lands 
of Tennessee. Here a sweep of the so-called 
“ Barrens” may be seen enameled with flowers, 
numberless, and richly dyed, over which the 
south wind blows, wafting their fragrance, or 
‘clothed with magnificent crops of Indian corn, 
from ten to fifteen feet in height, of tobacco, or 
of wheat waving and golden. 
