In
The Deep Recesses Of The Forest Suddenly Flamed To The View, Like The
Splashes Of Splendor On The Somber Canvas Of An Old Venetian, These
Wonders Of Color, - The Glowing Summer-Heart Of The Woods.
It was difficult to say, meantime, whether the road was laid out in
the river, or the river in the road.
In the few miles to Egger's
(this was the destination of our great expectations for the night)
the stream was crossed twenty-seven times, - or perhaps it would be
more proper to say that the road was crossed twenty-seven times.
Where the road did not run in the river, its bed was washed out and
as stony as the bed of the stream. This is a general and accurate
description of all the roads in this region, which wind along and in
the streams, through narrow valleys, shut in by low and steep hills.
The country is full of springs and streams, and between Abingdon and
Egger's is only one (small) bridge. In a region with scarcely any
level land or intervale, farmers are at a disadvantage. All along
the road we saw nothing but mean shanties, generally of logs, with
now and then a decent one-story frame, and the people looked
miserably poor.
As we picked our way along up the Laurel, obliged for the most part
to ride single-file, or as the Professor expressed it,
"Let me confess that we two must be twain,
Although our undivided loves are one,"
we gathered information about Egger's from the infrequent hovels on
the road, which inflamed our imaginations.
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