When we cross the line into Kentucky, I said, we shall see a change.
But no, we did not. The farmer still groaned in spirit; no thrifty
farms, no substantial homes, no neat villages, no good roads anywhere,
but squalor and sterility on every hand. Nearly all the afternoon we
rode through a country like the poorer parts of New England, unredeemed
by anything like New England thrift. It was a country of coal, a very
new country, geologically speaking, and the top-soil did not seem to
have had time to become deepened and enriched by vegetable mould. Near
sundown, as I glanced out of the window, I thought I began to see a
change. Presently I was very sure I did. It began to appear in the
more grassy character of the woods. Then I caught sight of peculiarly
soft and uniform grassy patches here and there in the open. Then in
a few moments more the train had shot us fairly into the edge of the
blue-grass region, and the farmer in me began to be on the alert. We
had passed in a twinkling from a portion of the earth's surface which
is new, which is of yesterday, to a portion which is of the oldest,
from the carboniferous to the lower silurian. Here, upon this lower
silurian, the earth that saw and nourished the great monsters and
dragons was growing the delicate blue-grass. It had taken all these
millions upon millions of years to prepare the way for this little
plant to grow to perfection. I thought I had never seen fields and low
hills look so soft in the twilight; they seemed clad in greenish gray
fur. As we neared Mount Sterling, how fat and smooth the land looked;
what long, even, gently flowing lines against the fading western sky,
broken here and there by herds of slowly grazing or else reposing
and ruminating cattle! What peace and plenty it suggested! From a
land raw and crude and bitter like unripe fruit, we had suddenly been
transported into the midst of one ripe and mellow with the fullness of
time. It was sweet to look upon. I was seized with a strong desire to
go forth and taste it by a stroll through it in the twilight.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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