A Thousand-Mile Walk 
hewn for the locomotive, walking sometimes 
between the rails, stepping from tie to tie, or 
walking on the strip of sand at the sides, gazing 
into the mysterious forest, Nature’s own. It is 
impossible to write the dimmest picture of 
plant grandeur so redundant, unfathomable. 
_ Short was the measure of my walk to-day. 
A new, canelike grass, or big lily, or gorgeous 
flower belonging to tree or vine, would catch 
my attention, and I would throw down my bag 
and press and splash through the coffee-brown 
water for specimens. Frequently I sank deeper 
and deeper until compelled to turn back and 
make the attempt in another and still another 
place. Oftentimes I was tangled in a laby- 
rinth of armed vines like a fly in a spider-web. 
At all times, whether wading or climbing a tree 
for specimens of fruit, I was overwhelmed with 
the vastness and unapproachableness of the 
great guarded sea of sunny plants. 
Magnolia grandiflora I had seen in Georgia; 
but its home, its better land, is here. Its 
large dark-green leaves, glossy bright above 
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