Kentucky Forests and Caves 
are salty and so are the wells. Salt River was 
nearly dry. Much of my way this forenoon was 
over naked limestone. After passing the level 
ground that extended twenty-five or thirty 
miles from the river I came to a region of roll- 
ing hills called Kentucky Knobs — hills of de- 
nudation, covered with trees to the top. Some 
of them have a few pines. For a few hours I 
followed the farmers’ paths, but soon wan- 
dered away from roads and encountered many 
a tribe of twisted vines difficult to pass. 
Emerging about noon from a grove of giant 
sunflowers, I found myself on the brink of a 
tumbling rocky stream [Rolling Fork]. I did 
not expect to find bridges on my wild ways, 
and at once started to ford, when a negro 
woman on the opposite bank earnestly called 
on me to wait until she could tell the “men 
folks” to bring me a horse — that the river 
was too deep and rapid to wade and that I 
would “sartain be drowned” if I attempted to 
cross. I replied that my bag and plants would 
ballast me; that the water did not appear to be 
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