A Thousand-Mile Walk 
The groves and thickets of smaller trees are 
full of blooming evergreen vines. These vines 
are not arranged in separate groups, or in deli- 
cate wreaths, but in bossy walls and heavy, 
mound-like heaps and banks. Am made to feel 
that I am now in a strange land. I know hardly 
any of the plants, but few of the birds, and I 
am unable to see the country for the solemn, 
dark, mysterious cypress woods which cover 
everything. 
The winds are full of strange sounds, making 
one feel far from the people and plants and fruit- 
ful fields of home. Night is coming on and I am 
filled with indescribable loneliness. Felt fever- 
ish; bathed in a black, silent stream; nervously 
watchful for alligators. Obtained lodging in a 
planter’s house among cotton fields. Although 
the family seemed to be pretty well-off, the 
only light in the house was bits of pitch-pine 
wood burned in the fireplace. 
October 2. In the low bottom forest of the 
Savannah River. Very busy with new speci- 
mens. Most exquisitely planned wrecks of 
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