A Thousand-Mile Walk 
news he had just heard. “Three kingdoms, 
England, Ireland, and Russia, have declared 
war agin the United States. Oh, it’s terrible, 
terrible,” said he. “This big war comin’ so 
quick after our own big fight. Well, it can’t be 
helped, and all I have to say is, Amerricay for- 
ever, but I’d a heap rather they did n’t fight.” 
“But are you sure the news is true?” I in- 
quired. “Oh, yes, quite sure,” he replied, “for 
me and some of my neighbors were down at the 
store last night, and Jim Smith can read, and 
he found out all about it in a newspaper.” 
Passed the poor, rickety, thrice-dead village 
of Jamestown, an incredibly dreary place. 
Toward the top of the Cumberland grade, about 
two hours before sundown I came to a log house, 
and as I had been warned that all the broad 
plateau of the range for forty or fifty miles was 
desolate, I began thus early to seek a lodging 
for the night. Knocking at the door, a motherly 
old lady replied to my request for supper and 
bed and breakfast, that I was welcome to the 
best she had, provided that I had the necessary 
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