look around and mark the features
of a new world, with objects which tell of another hemisphere; and then
think that we are there alone, without tie or link to all around us, the
sensation is thrilling in its intensity.

Every one of us--the least imaginative, even--will associate the
strangeness of a foreign scene with something of that adventure of which
he has read in his childhood; and we people vacancy, as we go, with
images to suit the spot in our own country. The little pathway along
the river side suggests the lovers' walk at sunset as surely as the dark
grove speaks of a woodman's hut or a gypsy camp. But abroad, the scene
evokes different dwellers: the Sierra suggests the brigand; the thick
jungle, the jaguar or the rattlesnake; the heavy plash in the muddy
river is the sound of the cayman; and the dull roar, like wind within a
cavern, is the cry of the hungry lion. The presence around us of objects
of which we have read long ago, but never expected to see, is highly
exciting; it is like taking our place among the characters of a story,
and investing us with an interest to ourselves, as the hero of some
unwrought history.

This is the most fascinating of all castle-building, since we have a
spot for an edifice,--a territory actually given to us.

I thought long upon this theme, and wondered to what I was yet
destined,--whether to some condition of real eminence, or to move on
among that vulgar herd who are the spectators of life, but never its
conspicuous actors. I really believe this ignoble course was more
distasteful to me from its flatness and insipidity than from its
mere humility. It seemed so devoid of all interest, so tame and so
monotonous, I would have chosen peril and vicissitude any day in
preference. About midnight I reached Croft's Gulley, where, after
knocking for some time, a very sulky old negro admitted me into a stable
while I baited my mare. The house was shut up for the night; and even
had I sought refreshment, I could not have obtained it.

After a brief halt, I again resumed the road, which led through a close
pine forest, and, however much praised, was anything but a good surface
to travel on. Charcoal, however, made light of such difficulties, and
picked her steps over holes and stumps with the caution of a trapper,
detecting with a rare instinct the safe ground, and never venturing on
spots where any difficulty or danger existed. I left her to herself, and
it was curious to see th