You are here

قراءة كتاب A Flight in Spring In the car Lucania from New York to the Pacific coast and back, during April and May, 1898

تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"

‏اللغة: English
A Flight in Spring
In the car Lucania from New York to the Pacific coast and back, during April and May, 1898

A Flight in Spring In the car Lucania from New York to the Pacific coast and back, during April and May, 1898

تقييمك:
0
No votes yet
دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
الصفحة رقم: 6

visions of broad, unpaved streets embowered in trees; of stately mansions in enclosed gardens; of the huge levee, which, like a giant laid at length, pushes its shoulders against the ever-threatening flood of the mighty Mississippi. Our ladies, too, had additional memories of the shopping districts; of ill-smelling open drains which offended them; of ravishing summer goods of cotton and silk from the looms of France; of exquisite bijouterie tempting to one's purse; of great square paving blocks which seemed made to float; and over all the remembrance of the yellow flag of Spain, of the lily of France, and of the awakened bravery of the eagle of America, strangely rousing up to war, and we hoped to conquest.

The great river at New Orleans is ever an object of interest. The huge three-sided bend which forms the harbor has a width varying from 1,500 to 3,000 feet, and a depth of from 60 to more than 200 feet. This great body of water has at times a current of five miles an hour. It is the aggregate of a river system extending more than 100,000 miles. You may put together the Amazon, the Nile, the Ganges, and all the river systems of the earth, and they would scarcely approach the magnificent showing of the Father of Waters and its tributaries as it flows on by New Orleans to the sea.

As we looked back from our ferry-boat over the levee, luminous with its electric lights, at the huge bulk of the wonderful river over which we were passing, and then thought of all we had already seen in the few short days of our trip, and of all that was yet before us, we felt that rest in our dear "Lucania" would be welcome, and that we could well afford to sleep through Louisiana and wake in Texas.

When we woke up after our night's ride from New Orleans, we found ourselves in the southern part of that wondrous State, Texas. One is not surprised that its vast extent should have awakened in its first adventurous settlers the dream of an independent "Lone Star Empire." How could it be otherwise then, before the time and space annihilating forces of steam and electricity had been discovered and applied? Now all is different. The great pulses of life and trade throb all through the world, in a wondrous fashion, of which our fathers could not even dream. Everywhere is now a centre to touch all else with influences.

It was lovely in the fresh morning light to look out over this jocund land. This is how it impressed dear Mrs. Morgan, and I transcribe directly from her diary, kindly placed at my disposal.

"Tuesday, April 19th.—Up early; a most exquisite morning. We pass through luxuriant forests of live oak, magnolia, and other trees of various kinds, draped in some places with southern moss, in others with beautiful creepers, among them the rich wistaria in full bloom.

"A heavy storm during the night left all the foliage sparkling with raindrops; and the songs of the birds and the odors from the refreshed earth added to the charm. It was a day of delight. Sat almost all the morning on the piazza in rear of the car in a state of beatitude.

"After the forest came sugar plantations—one of 5,000 acres, off which the owner last year made a million pounds of sugar. The cane, as we saw it, just coming up, resembled corn in its early growth. We also saw immense tracts of cotton, and then came the prairie, a seemingly boundless expanse of green, gemmed with lovely wild flowers. There were acres of beautiful blue larkspur, crimson phlox, varieties of poppies, and other yellow flowers, besides many that I failed to recognize as we rushed along. Here, too, the mocking-birds perched on the wires and sang to us, and the poet of the party was inspired to write his lines on 'A Prairie Pool,' one of many which we passed on our way."

I here give the little poem to which Mrs. Morgan refers. The fatigues of the day before were yet upon me, and I ensconced myself near one of the windows to have a silent, quiet little spell all to myself. It was while thus abstracted, that one of the many pools, left by the recent storm, looked at me with its sunlit face and said as follows:

Pages