"Don't wait for me, Mart," said he. "You'll find the book on the mantel. I'll be through in a short time. I've some news, too, about the cave."
"Just as you say. I'm anxious to try that wonderful book."
Martin seated himself before the spacious fire-place, which served the double purpose of heating and lighting the room, and began his work of inspection. The book was opened at random, and a passage of Shakespeare read,—a difficult one, not a line of which was understood. What could a farmer-boy who had read scarcely a dozen books expect to gather from the pages of Shakespeare? Martin closed the book, examined the cover, gazed into the fire-place, watched the shadows, and whistled three times. After this performance had been concluded, the book was again opened, but at a different place.
"Il Pen-se-ro-so"—he was forced to spell every syllable of the strange title, and as for the poem with its many mythological allusions, it was worse than a Chinese puzzle. Again Martin shuffled his feet, again he stared at the shadows. He then opened the book for the third time, with a firm resolve that if he did not understand the next lines he would never in the future enter the domains of poetry. Did his eyes deceive him? He leaned forward to get a better light. Was there really a poem on Kentucky? Impossible! He was dreaming! No, there it was, and to make sure that he was not deceived, he pronounced every letter, "K-e-n-t-u-c-k-y," and then read the line, "Kentucky's wild and tangled wood." Book in hand he rushed from the room into the yard, calling at the top of his voice: "Owen! Owen! here's a poem about Kentucky."
When the two boys returned to the room, they found that the poem was entitled "Marmion," the line, "Kentucky's wild and tangled wood," being simply an allusion to their State.
"Halloo!" exclaimed Owen, examining the title page, "it's written by a fellow named Scott."
"From Scott county," suggested Martin.
"May be. He seems to know all about the country."
"Yes! He says it's wild."
"I wonder whether he ever saw 'Green Briar'? It's the most tangled part of the State I know of. I went 'coon hunting one night, and got so tangled up among the bushes and briars that when I came home I had only half a coat."