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I HAD climbed but a short
distance when I was overtaken by a young man on horseback, who soon showed
that he intended to rob me if he should find the job worth while. After he
had inquired where I came from, and where I was going, he offered to carry
my bag. I told him that it was so light that I did not feel it at all as a
burden; but he insisted and coaxed until I allowed him to carry it. As soon
as he had gained possession I noticed that he gradually increased his speed,
evidently trying to get far enough ahead of me to examine the contents
without being observed. But I was too good a walker and runner for him to
get far. At a turn of the road, after trotting his horse for about half an
hour, and when he thought he was out of sight, I caught him rummaging my
poor bag. Finding there only a comb, brush, towel, soap, a change of
underclothing, a copy of Burns' poems, Milton's Paradise Lost, and a small
New Testament, he waited for me, handed back my bag, and returned down the
hill, saying that he had forgotten something.
I found splendid growths of
shining-leaved Ericacec [heathworts] for which the Alleghany Mountains are
noted. Also ferns of which Osmunda cinnamomea [Cinnamon Fern] is the largest
and perhaps the most abundant. Osmunda regalis [Flowering Fern] is also
common here, but not large. In Wood's [Alphonso Wood, Class-book of Botany,
with a Flora of the United States and Canada. The copy of this work, carried
by Mr. Muir on his wanderings, is still extant. The edition is that of
1862.] and Gray's Botany Osmunda cinnamomea is said to be a much larger fern
than Osmunda Claytoniana. This I found to be true in Tennessee and
southward, but in Indiana, part of Illinois, and Wisconsin the opposite is
true. Found here the beautiful, sensitive Schrankia, or sensitive brier. It
is a long, prickly, leguminous vine, with dense heads of small, yellow
fragrant flowers.
Vines growing on roadsides
receive many a tormenting blow, simply because they give evidence of
feeling. Sensitive people are served in the same way. But the roadside vine
soon becomes less sensitive, like people getting used to teasing — Nature,
in this instance, making for the comfort of flower creatures the same
benevolent arrangement as for man. Thus I found that the Schrankia vines
growing along footpaths leading to a backwoods schoolhouse were much less
sensitive than those in the adjacent unfrequented woods, having learned to
pay but slight attention to the tingling strokes they get from teasing
scholars.
It is startling to see the
pairs of pinnate leaves rising quickly out of the grass and folding
themselves close in regular succession from the root to the end of the
prostrate stems, ten to twenty feet in length. How little we know as yet of
the life of plants — their hopes and fears, pains and enjoyments!
Traveled a few riles with an
old Tennessee farmer who was much excited on account of the news he had just
heard. "Three kingdoms, England, Ireland and Russia, have declared war agin
the United States. Oh, it's terrible, terrible," said he. "This big war
comin' so quick after our own big fight. Well, it can't be helped, and all I
have to say is, Amerricay forever, but I'd a heap rather they didn't fight."
"But are you sure the news is
true?" I inquired. "Oh, yes, quite sure," he replied, "for me and some of my
neighbors were down at the store last night, and Jim Smith can read, and he
found out all about it in a newspaper."
Passed the poor, rickety,
thrice-dead village of Jamestown, an incredibly dreary place. Toward the top
of the Cumberland grade, about two hours before sundown I came to a log
house, and as I had been warned that all the broad plateau of the range for
forty or fifty miles was desolate, I began thus early to seek a lodging for
the night. Knocking at the door, a motherly old lady replied to my request
for supper and bed and breakfast, that I was welcome to the best she had,
provided that I had the necessary change to pay my bill. When I told her
that unfortunately I had nothing smaller than a five dollar greenback she
said, "Well, I'm sorry, but cannot afford to keep you. Not long ago ten
soldiers came across from North Carolina, and in the morning they offered a
greenback that I couldn't change, and so I got nothing for keeping them,
which I was ill able to afford." "Very well," I said, "I'm glad you spoke of
this beforehand, for I would rather go hungry than impose on your
hospitality."
As I turned to leave, after
bidding her goodbye, she, evidently pitying me for my tired looks, called me
back and asked me if I would like a drink of milk. This I gladly accepted,
thinking that perhaps I might not be successful in getting any other
nourishment for a day or two. Then I inquired whether there were any more
houses on the road, nearer than North Carolina, forty or fifty miles away.
"Yes," she said, "it's only two miles to the next house, but beyond that
there are no houses that I know of except empty ones whose owners have been
killed or driven away during the war."
Arriving at the last house,
my knock at the door was answered by a bright, good-natured, good-looking
little woman who, in reply to my request for a night's lodging and food,
said, "Oh, I guess so. I think you can stay. Come in and I'll call my
husband." "But I must first warn you," I said, "that I have nothing smaller
to offer you than a five dollar bill for my entertainment. I don't want you
to think that I am trying to impose on your hospitality."
She then called her husband,
a blacksmith, who was at work at his forge. He came out, hammer in hand,
bare-breasted, sweaty, begrimed, and covered with shaggy black hair. In
reply to his wife's statement, that this young man wished to stop overnight,
he quickly replied, "That's all right; tell him to go into the house." He
was turning to go back to his shop, when his wife added, "But he says he
hasn't any change to pay. He has nothing smaller than a five dollar bill."
Hesitating only a moment, he turned on his heel and said, "Tell him to go
into the house. A man that comes right out like that beforehand is welcome
to eat my bread."
When he came in after his
hard day's work and sat down to dinner, he solemnly asked a blessing on the
frugal meal, consisting solely of corn bread and bacon. Then, looking across
the table at me, he said, "Young man, what are you doing down here?" I
replied that I was looking at plants. "Plants? What kind of plants?" I said,
"Oh, all kinds; grass, weeds, flowers, trees, mosses, ferns, — almost
everything that grows is interesting to me."
"Well, young man," he
queried, "you mean to say that you are not employed by the government on
some private business?" "No," I said, "I am not employed by any one except
just myself. I love all kinds of plants, and I came down here to these
Southern States to get acquainted with as many of them as possible."
"You look like a
strong-minded man," he replied, "and surely you are able to do something
better than wander over the country and look at weeds and blossoms. These
are hard times, and real work is required of every man that is able. Picking
up blossoms doesn't seem to be a man's work at all in any kind of times."
To this I replied, "You are a
believer in the Bible, are you not?" "Oh, yes." "Well, you know Solomon was
a strong-minded man, and he is generally believed to have been the very
wisest man the world ever saw, and yet he considered it was worth while to
study plants; not only to go and pick them up as I am doing, but to study
them; and you know we are told that he wrote a book about plants, not only
of the great cedars of Lebanon, but of little bits of things growing in the
cracks of the walls. [The previously mentioned copy of Wood's Botany, used
by John Muir, quotes on the titlepage I Kings iv, 33: " He spake of trees,
from the cedar of Lebanon even unto the hyssop that springeth out of the
wall."]
"Therefore, you see that
Solomon differed very much more from you than from me in this matter. I'll
warrant you he had many a long ramble in the mountains of Judea, and had he
been a Yankee he would likely have visited every weed in the land. And
again, do you not remember that Christ told his disciples to 'consider the
lilies how they grow,' and compared their beauty with Solomon in all his
glory? Now, whose advice am I to take, yours or Christ's? Christ says,
`Consider the lilies.' You say, `Don't .consider them. It isn't worth while
for any strong-minded man.'"
This evidently satisfied him,
and he acknowledged that he had never thought of blossoms in that way
before. He repeated again and again that I must be a very strong-minded man,
and admitted that no doubt I was fully justified in picking up blossoms. He
then told me that although the war was over, walking across the Cumberland
Mountains still was far from safe on account of small bands of guerrillas
who were in hiding along the roads, and earnestly entreated me to turn back
and not to think of walking so far as the Gulf of Mexico until the country
became quiet and orderly once more.
I replied that I had no fear,
that I had but very little to lose, and that nobody was likely to think it
worth while to rob me; that, anyhow, I always had good luck. In the morning
he repeated the warning and entreated me to turn back, which never for a
moment interfered with my resolution to pursue my glorious walk.
September 11. Long stretch of
level sandstone plateau, lightly furrowed and dimpled with shallow
groove-like valleys and hills. The trees are mostly oaks, planted wide apart
like those in the Wisconsin woods. A good many pine trees here and there,
forty to eighty feet high, and most of the ground is covered with showy
flowers. Polygalas [milkworts], solidagoes [goldenrods], and asters were
especially abundant. I came to a cool clear brook every half mile or so,
their banks planted with Osmunda regalis, Osmunda cinnamomea, and handsome
sedges. The few larger streams were fringed with laurels and azaleas. Large
areas beneath the trees are covered with formidable green briers and
brambles, armed with hooked claws, and almost impenetrable. Houses are far
apart and uninhabited, orchards and fences in ruins -- sad marks of war.
About noon my road became dim
and at last vanished among desolate fields. Lost and hungry, I knew my
direction but could not keep it on account of the briers. My path was indeed
strewn with flowers, but as thorny, also, as mortal ever trod. In trying to
force a way through these cat-plants one is not simply clawed and pricked
through all one's clothing, but caught and held fast. The toothed arching
branches come down over and above you like cruel living arms, and the more
you struggle the more desperately you are entangled, and your wounds
deepened and multiplied. The South has plant fly-catchers. It also has plant
man-catchers.
After a great deal of
defensive fighting and struggling I escaped to a road and a house, but
failed to find food or shelter. Towards sundown, as I was walking rapidly
along a straight stretch in the road, I suddenly came in sight of ten
mounted men riding abreast. They undoubtedly had seen me before I discovered
them, for they had stopped their horses and were evidently watching me. I
saw at once that it was useless to attempt to avoid them, for the ground
thereabout was quite open. I knew that there was nothing for it but to face
them fearlessly, without showing the slightest suspicion of foul play.
Therefore, without halting even for a moment, I advanced rapidly with long
strides as though I intended to walk through the midst of them. When I got
within a rod or so I looked up in their faces and smilingly bade them
"Howdy." Stopping never an instant, I turned to one side and walked around
them to get on the road again, and kept on without venturing to look back or
to betray the slightest fear of being robbed.
After I had gone about one
hundred or one hundred and fifty yards, I ventured a quick glance back,
without stopping, and saw in this flash of an eye that all the ten had
turned their horses toward me and were evidently talking about me;
supposedly, with reference to what my object was, where I was going, and
whether it would be worth while to rob me. They all were mounted on rather
scrawny horses, and all wore long hair hanging down on their shoulders.
Evidently they belonged to the most irreclaimable of the guerrilla bands
who, long accustomed to plunder, deplored the coming of peace. I was not
followed, however, probably because the plants projecting from my plant
press made them believe that I was a poor herb doctor, a common occupation
in these mountain regions.
About dark I discovered, a
little off the road, another house, inhabited by negroes, where I succeeded
in obtaining a much needed meal of string beans, buttermilk, and corn bread.
At the table I was seated in a bottomless chair, and as I became sore and
heavy I sank deeper and deeper, pressing my knees against my breast, and my
mouth settled to the level of my plate. But wild hunger cares for none of
these things, and my curiously compressed position prevented the too free
indulgence of boisterous appetite. Of course, I was compelled to sleep with
the trees in the one great bedroom of the open night.
September 12. Awoke drenched
with mountain mist, which made a grand show, as it moved away before the hot
sun. Passed Montgomery, a shabby village at the head of the east slope of
the Cumberland Mountains. Obtained breakfast in a clean house and began the
descent of the mountains. Obtained fine views of a wide, open country, and
distant flanking ridges and spurs. Crossed a wide cool stream [Emory River],
a branch of the Clinch River. There is nothing more eloquent in Nature than
a mountain stream, and this is the first I ever saw. Its banks are
luxuriantly peopled with rare and lovely flowers, and overarching trees,
making one of Nature's coolest and most hospitable places. Every tree, every
flower, every ripple and eddy of this lovely stream seemed solemnly to feel
the presence of the great Creator. Lingered in this sanctuary a long time,
thanking the Lord with all my heart for his goodness in allowing me to enter
and enjoy it.
Discovered two ferns,
Dicksonia and a small matted polypod on trees, common farther south. Also a
species of magnolia with very large leaves and scarlet conical fruit. Near
this stream I spent some joyous time in a grand rock-dwelling full of
mosses, birds, and flowers. Most heavenly place I ever entered. The long
narrow valleys of the mountainside, all well watered and nobly adorned with
oaks, magnolias, laurels, azaleas, asters, ferns, Hypnum mosses, Madotheca
[Scale-mosses], etc. Also towering clumps of beautiful hemlocks. The
hemlock, judging from the common species of Canada, I regarded as the least
noble of the conifers. But those of the eastern valleys of the Cumberland
Mountains are as perfect in form and regal in port as the pines themselves.
The latter abundant. Obtained fine glimpses from open places as I descended
to the great valley between these mountains and the Unaka Mountains on the
state line. Forded the Clinch, a beautiful clear stream that knows many of
the dearest mountain retreats that ever heard the music of running water.
Reached Kingston before dark. Sent back my plant collections by express to
my brother in Wisconsin.
September 13. Walked all day
across small parallel valleys that flute the surface of the one wide valley.
These flutings appear to have been formed by lateral pressure, are fertile,
and contain some fine forms, though the seal of war is on all things. The
roads never seem to proceed with any fixed purpose, but wander as if lost.
In seeking the way to Philadelphia [in Loudon County, Tennessee], I was told
by a buxom Tennessee "gal" that over the hills was much the nearer way, that
she always went that way, and that surely I could travel it.
I started over the
flint-ridges, but soon reached a set of enchanted little valleys among
which, no matter how or in what direction I traveled, I could not get a foot
nearer to Philadelphia. At last, consulting my map and compass, I neglected
all directions and finally reached the house of a negro driver, with whom I
put up for the night. Received a good deal of knowledge which may be of use
should I ever be a negro teamster.
September 14. Philadelphia is
a very filthy village in a beautiful situation. More or less of pine. Black
oak most abundant. Poly podium hexagonopterum and Aspidium acrostichoides
[Christmas Fern] most abundant of ferns and most generally distributed.
Osmunda claytoniana rare, not in fruit, small. Dicksonia abundant, after
leaving the Cumberland Mountains. Asplenium cbeneum [Ebony Spleenwort] quite
common in Tennessee and many parts of Kentucky. Cystopteris [Bladder Fern],
and Asplenium filix fcemina not common through the same range. Pteris
aquilina [Common Brake] abundant, but small.
Walked through many a leafy
valley, shady grove, and cool brooklet. Reached Madisonville, a brisk
village. Came in full view of the Unaka Mountains, a magnificent sight.
Stayed overnight with a pleasant young farmer.
September 15. Most glorious
billowy mountain scenery. Made many a halt at open places to take breath and
to admire. The road, in many places cut into the rock, goes winding about
among the knobs and gorges. Dense growth of asters, liatris, [Wood's Botany,
edition of 1862, furnishes the following interesting comment on Liatris
odoratissima (Wild.), popularly known as Vanilla Plant or Deer's Tongue:
"The fleshy leaves exhale a rich fragrance even for years after they are
dry, and are therefore by the southern planters largely mixed with their
cured tobacco, to impart its fragrance to that nauseous weed."] and
grapevines.
Reached a house before night,
and asked leave to stop. "Well, you're welcome to stop," said the
mountaineer, "if you think you can live till morning on what I have to live
on all the time." Found the old gentleman very communicative. Was favored
with long "bar" stories, deer hunts, etc., and in the morning was pressed to
stay a day or two.
September 16. "I will take
you," said he, "to the highest ridge in the country, where you can see both
ways. You will have a view of all the world on one side of the mountains and
all creation on the other. Besides, you, who are traveling for curiosity and
wonder, ought to see our gold mines." I agreed to stay and went to the
mines. Gold is found in small quantities throughout the Alleghanies, and
many farmers work at mining a few weeks or months every year when their time
is not more valuable for other pursuits. In this neighborhood miners are
earning from half a dollar to two dollars a day. There are several large
quartz mills not far from here. Common labor is worth ten dollars a month.
September 17. Spent the day
in botanizing, blacksmithing, and examining a grist mill. Grist mills, in
the less settled parts of Tennessee and North Carolina, are remarkably
simple affairs. A small stone, that a man might carry under his arm, is
fastened to the vertical shaft of a little home-made, boyish looking,
back-action water-wheel, which, with a hopper and a box to receive the meal,
is the whole affair. The walls of the mill are of undressed poles cut from
seedling trees and there is no floor, as lumber is dear. No dam is built.
The water is conveyed along some hillside until sufficient fall is obtained,
a thing easily done in the mountains.
On Sundays you may see wild,
unshorn, uncombed men coming out of the woods, each with a bag of corn on
his back. From a peck to a bushel is a common grist. They go to the mill
along verdant footpaths, winding up and down over hill and valley, and
crossing many a rhododendron glen. The flowers and shining leaves brush
against their shoulders and knees, occasionally knocking off their coon-skin
caps. The first arrived throws his corn into the hopper, turns on the water,
and goes to the house. After chatting and smoking he returns to see if his
grist is done. Should the stones run empty for an hour or two, it does no
harm.
This is a fair average in
equipment and capacity of a score of mills that I saw in Tennessee. This one
was built by John Vohn, who claimed that he could make it grind twenty
bushels a day. But since it fell into other hands it can be made to grind
only ten per day. All the machines of Kentucky and Tennessee are far behind
the age. There is scarce a trace of that restless spirit of speculation and
invention so characteristic of the North. But one way of doing things
obtains here, as if laws had been passed making attempts at improvement a
crime. Spinning and weaving are done in every one of these mountain cabins
wherever the least pretensions are made to thrift and economy. The practice
of these ancient arts they deem marks of advancement rather than of
backwardness. "There's a place back heah," said my worthy entertainer, "whar
there's a mill-house, an' a store-house, an' a still-house, an' a
spring-house, an' a blacksmith shop — all in the same yard! Cows too, an'
heaps of big gals a-milkin' them."
This is the most primitive
country I have seen, primitive in everything. The remotest hidden parts of
Wisconsin are far in advance of the mountain regions of Tennessee and North
Carolina. But my host speaks of the "old-fashioned unenlightened times,"
like a philosopher in the best light of civilization. "I believe in
Providence," said he. "Our fathers came into these valleys, got the richest
of them, and skimmed off the cream of the soil. The worn-out ground won't
yield no roastin' ears now. But the Lord foresaw this state of affairs, and
prepared something else for us. And what is it? Why, He meant us to bust
open these copper mines and gold mines, so that we may have money to buy the
corn that we cannot raise." A most profound observation.
September 18. Up the mountain
on the state line. The scenery is far grander than any I ever before beheld.
The view extends from the Cumberland Mountains on the north far into Georgia
and North Carolina to the south, an area of about five thousand square
miles. Such an ocean of wooded, waving, swelling mountain beauty and
grandeur is not to be described. Countless forest-clad hills, side by side
in rows and groups, seemed to be enjoying the rich sunshine and remaining
motionless only because they were so eagerly absorbing it. All were united
by curves and slopes of inimitable softness and beauty. Oh, these forest
gardens of our Father! What perfection, what divinity, in their
architecture! What simplicity and mysterious complexity of detail! Who shall
read the teaching of these sylvan pages, the glad brotherhood of rills that
sing in the valleys, and all the happy creatures that dwell in them under
the tender keeping of a Father's care?
September 19. Received
another solemn warning of dangers on my way through the mountains. Was told
by my worthy entertainer of a wondrous gap in the mountains which he advised
me to see. "It is called Track Gap," said he, "from the great number of
tracks in the rocks — bird tracks, bar tracks, hoss tracks, men tracks, all
in the solid rock as if it had been mud." Bidding farewell to my worthy
mountaineer and all his comfortable wonders, I pursued my way to the south.
As I was leaving, he repeated
the warnings of danger ahead, saying that there were a good many people
living like wild beasts on whatever they could steal, and that murders were
sometimes committed for four or five dollars, and even less. While stopping
with him I noticed that a man came regularly after dark to the house for his
supper. He was armed with a gun, a pistol, and a long knife. My host told me
that this man was at feud with one of his neighbors, and that they were
prepared to shoot one another on sight. That neither of them could do any
regular work or sleep in the same place two nights in succession. That they
visited houses only for food, and as soon as the one that I saw had got his
supper he went out and slept in the woods, without of course making a fire.
His enemy did the same.
My entertainer told me that
he was trying to make peace between these two men, because they both were
good men, and if they would agree to stop their quarrel, they could then
both go to work. Most of the food in this house was coffee without sugar,
corn bread, and sometimes bacon. But the coffee was the greatest luxury
which these people knew. The only way of obtaining it was by selling skins,
or, in particular, "sang," that is ginseng, [Muir's journal contains the
following additional note: "M. County produces $5000 worth a year of ginseng
root, valued at seventy cents a pound. Under the law it is not allowed to be
gathered until the first of September."] which found a market in far-off
China.
My path all to-day led me
along the leafy banks of the Hiwassee, [In his journal Muir spells the name
"Hiawassee," a form which occurs on many of the older maps. The name
probably is derived from the Cherokee Indian "Ayuhwasi," a name applied to
several of their former settlements.] a most impressive mountain river. Its
channel is very rough, as it crosses the edges of upturned rock strata, some
of them standing at right angles, or glancing off obliquely to right and
left. Thus a multitude of short, resounding cataracts are produced, and the
river is restrained from the headlong speed due to its volume and the
inclination of its bed.
All the larger streams of
uncultivated countries are mysteriously charming and beautiful, whether
flowing in mountains or through swamps and plains. Their channels are
interestingly sculptured, far more so than the grandest architectural works
of man. The finest of the forests are usually found along their banks, and
in the multitude of falls and rapids the wilderness finds a voice. Such a
river is the Hiwassee, with its surface broken to a thousand sparkling gems,
and its forest walls vine-draped and flowery as Eden. And how fine the songs
it sings!
In Murphy [North Carolina] I
was hailed by the sheriff who could not determine by my colors and rigging
to what country or craft I belonged. Since the war, every other stranger in
these lonely parts is supposed to be a criminal, and all are objects of
curiosity or apprehensive concern. After a few minutes' conversation with
this chief man of Murphy I was pronounced harmless, and invited to his
house, where for the first time since leaving home I found a house decked
with flowers and vines, clean within and without, and stamped with the
comforts of culture and refinement in all its arrangements. Striking
contrast to the uncouth transitionist establishments from the wigwams of
savages to the clumsy but clean log castle of the thrifty pioneer.
September 20. All day among
the groves and gorges of Murphy with Mr. Beale. Was shown the site of Camp
Butler, where General Scott had his headquarters when he removed the
Cherokee Indians to a new home in the West. Found a number of rare and
strange plants on the rocky banks of the river Hiwassee. In the afternoon,
from the summit of a commanding ridge, I obtained a magnificent view of
blue, softly curved mountain scenery. Among the trees I saw Ilex [Holly] for
the first time. Mr. Beale informed me that the paleness of most of the women
in his neighborhood, and the mountains in general hereabouts, was caused
chiefly by smoking and by what is called "dipping." I had never even heard
of dipping. The term simply describes the application of snuff to the gum by
means of a small swab.
September 21. Most luxuriant
forest. Many brooks running across the road. Blairsville [Georgia], which I
passed in the forenoon, seems a shapeless and insignificant village, but
grandly encircled with banded hills. At night I was cordially received by a
farmer whose wife, though smart and neat in her appearance, was an
inveterate smoker.
September 22. Hills becoming
small, sparsely covered with soil. They are called "knob land" and are
cultivated, or scratched, with a kind of one-tooth cultivator. Every rain
robs them of their fertility, while the bottoms are of course
correspondingly enriched. About noon I reached the last mountain summit on
my way to the sea. It is called the Blue Ridge, and before it lies a
prospect very different from any I had passed, namely, a vast uniform
expanse of dark pine woods, extending to the sea; an impressive view at any
time and under any circumstances, but particularly so to one emerging from
the mountains.
Traveled in the wake of three
poor but merry mountaineers -- an old woman, a young woman, and a young man
— who sat, leaned, and lay in the box of a shackly wagon that seemed to be
held together by spiritualism, and was kept in agitation by a very large and
a very small mule. In going down hill the looseness of the harness and the
joints of the wagon allowed the mules to back nearly out of might beneath
the box, and the three who occupied it were slid against the front boards in
a heap over the mules' ears. Before they could unravel their limbs from this
unmannerly and impolite disorder, a new ridge in the road frequently tilted
them with a swish and a bump against the back boards in a mixing that was
still more grotesque.
I expected to see man, women,
and mules mingled in piebald ruin at the bottom of some rocky hollow, but
they seemed to have full confidence in the back board and front board of the
wagon-box. So they continued to slide comfortably up and down, from end to
end, in slippery obedience to the law of gravitation, as the grades
demanded. Where the jolting was moderate, they engaged in conversation on
love, marriage, and camp-meeting, according to the custom of the country.
The old lady, through all the vicissitudes of the transportation, held a
bouquet of French marigolds.
The hillsides hereabouts were
bearing a fine harvest of asters. Reached Mount Yonah in the evening. Had a
long conversation with an old Methodist slaveholder and mine owner. Was
hospitably refreshed with a drink of fine cider. |
