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The Vault at PfaffsAn Archive of Art and Literature by the Bohemians of Antebellum New York
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Text for Page 128 [09-29-1853]

              still road.     At length day gan down drearily on our left, in blotches of
cold light, soon however to brighten into more cheery aspect.     By 7 we
stop at a road side house for breakfast, which is right welcome, and its
influence all-inspiriting.      My travelling companions are, first a Dr Brodnax
of Russellville, Kentucky, Louiseanian born, and owner of some considerable
number of slaves & a cotton plantation in Alabama.   He is a gentleman, and
well informed.     A Philadelphia born,  Cincinatti-abiding dry goods man, yclept
Burton, (father of him proud to believe himself akin to the good old book-fighter
against blue-devils.)     The other a burly farmer of Kentucky, who had never
travelled on a railroad, and was inquisitive touching them.  Woman, nothing no-
table.     Brightly shone the sun now on the fil fields of indian corn, on
the tall trees, and otherwise monotonous country, as winding along the road
running parallel to the Ohio we reach Salt River.   Here getting out to
relieve our horses, (who had perhaps over-walked themselves,) we proceeding down a
sloping bank, and with coach & quadrupeds were ferried across the river
dreaded by politicians.       Here the road meandering southwards becomes
beautiful exceedingly.     Brave pioneers following in Boone�s track, with
rifle and trap, into the �darky and bloody ground� of Kentucky, (�so
called from the Cane and Turkeys then abounding,) found here
in the west part of the state a vast prairie, and streams only fringed by 
tall trees.   And now a second growth has covered it all with thick
forest, on the variously lined autumnal leaves of which the hot moon tide
light of the glorious sun shone brightly.    On the crimson maple boughs
and yellow hickory, an elm, oak, and the blood red berries and leaves
of the sumach; brake, bush thicket and underwood.   Tarrying
to dine at Elizabethtown, � a plentiful but unnescessarily hurried meal,
(but the driver had taken his feed, and therefore had naught to do, but blow
a querulous horn at the portal,) onwards we go, changing horses at
every fifteen or twenty miles.     As the day wore on, the road became               
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