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through which flowed that loveliest of 

 mountain rivers, the far-famed French 

 Broad. So clear was the atmosphere that 

 with my glass I could almost see the 

 separate bright leaves on the orchard-trees 

 embowering the cozy farm-houses. The 

 prospect sent up to me something like a 

 shock of civilization, and I felt a breath of 

 man's latest aspirations, while from far 

 away behind me came the fading voice of 

 freedom and the wilderness. I vaguely 

 feared to turn and look back over my 

 shoulder, lest I should be tempted beyond 

 resistance and retreat before the counte- 

 nance of thrift and traffic. 



But down the airy slope I featly trod, 

 soon reaching a genuine public highway, 

 smooth and broad, with beautiful fields 

 rolling off on either side in gentle billows 

 of rich brown soil, over which the plows 

 and harrows were trailing their sketchy 

 lines, loosing an opulence of earthy odors 

 sweet as blossom-breath to my nostrils. 

 Meadow-larks sang, in clear, lonesome 

 tones, a haunting snatch which might have 

 been blown, as " sweet sleep " was blown, 

 235 



