Year: 1878

We rub our eyes. Have we wandered
into Brazilian swamp, then, during the
long dark night2 The yellow light of
the early morning is shining down on
those dusky pools of sluggish water, on
the dense forest, on the matted under
wood, and the rank green grass How
the railway track does not sink into this
vast mire passes our comprehension there
seems scarcely sufficient mud on the
scattered islands to support the partly
submerged trees. But, as we are looking
out, new object suddenly confronts the
eyes. Instead of that succession of still
creeks we come on broad eXpanse of
coffee -colored water that broadens out
as it rolls southwar1, and we cry, "The
Mississippi!n And over there, on the
the other side, we see big and struggling
town picturesquely built along the bluffs,
and all shining in the early sunlight.
But the Mississippi detains us not; nor
Burlington either. Our mission is west
ward, and forever westward-through the
perpetual forest, with its recurrent clear
anCes and farms and fields of maize.
Surely it is pleasant enough manner of
passing this idle, beautiful day. The
recent rains have laid the dust; we sit
outside the car and lazily watch the rich
colors of the underwood as we pass. Could
anything be deeper in hue than the lake
red of those sumach busiest Look at
that maple-its own foliage is mass of
pale, transparent gold; but up the stem
and out the branches runs a creeper, and
the creeper is Of pure vermillion that
burns in the sun. Westward-and for
ever westward. We lose consciousness
of time. We resign ourselves to the slow
passing.by of the trees, and the farms,
and the maize. 1t is like continuous
dream.


Of course, all our preconcerted notions
about the prairies were found to be
wrong. They were not at all melancholy
and oppressive. On the contrary, they
were quite cheerful and bright, in the
sunshine; though there was still that
mysterious feeling about them; and
though the unaccustomed eye could not
get quite reconciled to the absence from
the horizon of some line of hill, and
would keep searching for some streak
of blue. Surely there was nothing here
of the dreary wastes we had imagined
First of all, AMI near US, was rich vii.
derness of flowers, of the most beautiful
verdure and variegated colors-masses of
yellow sun.fowers, and lilac Michaelmas-
iaises, and what not, with the blood-ret
of the sumach coming in. Further off,
the plain rose and fell in gentle undua-
tions covered with variously tinted grass;
and here and there were the palisades OF
few ranches. Further away still, were
wider and barer undulations, marked by
one or two clusters of the minutest specks,
which we took to be cattle. Then beyond
that again the open prairie land-long,
level swathes, of the very faintest russell,
gray-green, and yellow-gray, going out
ut--out-until the blue sky of the hori-
zon seemed quite close and near to us com
pared with that ever and mysterious re-
ceding plain. This vast distance was
not aWful, like the sea. IL was beautiful
in it, pale colors; it was full of an eager
interest-for the eye appealed to the
Imagination to aid it in its endless search
and if it was an ocean at all it was an
ocean that broke at our feet in brilliant
foam of flowers. This similitude was,
indeed, so obvious that we unanimously
were of opinion that it must have been
used by every American poet who has
ever written about the prairie lands
William Black