A Thousand-Mile W alk 
parents could ever be clean. Dirt and dis- 
ease are dreadful enough when separate, but 
combined are inconceivably horrible. The 
neat cottage with a fragrant circumference of 
thyme and honeysuckle is almost unknown 
here. I have seen dirt on garments regularly 
stratified, the various strata no doubt indi- 
cating different periods of life. Some of them, 
perhaps, were annual layers, furnishing, like 
those of trees, a means of determining the 
age. Man and other civilized animals are the 
only creatures that ever become dirty. 
Slept in the barrens at the side of a log. Suf- 
fered from cold and was drenched with dew. 
What a comfort a companion would be in the 
dark loneliness of such nights! Did not dare 
to make a fire for fear of discovery by robber 
negroes, who, I was warned, would kill a man 
for a dollar or two. Had a long walk after night- 
fall, hoping to discover a house. Became very 
thirsty and often was compelled to drink from 
slimy pools groped for in the grass, with the 
fear of alligators before my eyes. 
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