Page:Six months in Kansas.djvu/40

36 the awe with which it inspired us there opened before us another view of the same picture at some distance appeared a gentle rise, continuous for a mile or more, and stretching far to the right and left, a perfect lawn, studded everywhere with groups and belts of those tall oaks, graceful in arrangement, perfect in growth. We jumped up—we shouted, with the newly awakened delight of tired and homesick children. But there was no response from human voice. Our ardor exhausted itself; the road wound gently down, leaving this part of the wilderness on our left, and the grand spread mowing field, with the golden sun light, on bur right. Our way now ran along the dull prose of a country road, settling us back into the full consciousness of the cart—its sail-cloth covering knocking against our bonnets at every jolt; its plank seats without backs; its cramped, uncomfortable crowdedness of people, of children, of baskets, of carpet-bags, of cloaks and shawls; its sickening odor of crumbled gingerbread, of bread and butter, of cheese and dried beef. And now, the deepening twilight makes every soul turn with struggling yearning to the thought of home.