It was now summer, but, having been a season of plenteous rains, grass
and foliage were of the most vivid and intense green. They were entering
one of the richest portions of Kentucky, and the untouched soil was
luxuriant with fertility. As a pioneer himself said: "All they had to do
was to tickle it with a hoe, and it laughed into a harvest." There was
the proof of its strength in the grass and the trees. Never before had
the travelers seen oaks and beeches of such girth or elms and hickories
of such height. The grass was high and thick and the canebrake was so
dense that passage through it seemed impossible. Down the center of the
valley, which was but one of many, separated from each other by low easy
hills, flowed a little river, cleaving its center like a silver blade.
It was upon this beautiful prospect that the travelers saw the sun rise
that morning and all their troubles and labors rolled away. Even the
face of Mr. Ware who rarely yielded to enthusiasm kindled at the sight
and, lifting his hand, he made with it a circle that described the
valley.
"There," he said. "There is our home waiting for us.
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