"A heavy storm during the night left all the foliage sparkling with raindrops; and the songs of the birds and the odors from the refreshed earth added to the charm. It was a day of delight. Sat almost all the morning on the piazza in rear of the car in a state of beatitude.
"After the forest came sugar plantations—one of 5,000 acres, off which the owner last year made a million pounds of sugar. The cane, as we saw it, just coming up, resembled corn in its early growth. We also saw immense tracts of cotton, and then came the prairie, a seemingly boundless expanse of green, gemmed with lovely wild flowers. There were acres of beautiful blue larkspur, crimson phlox, varieties of poppies, and other yellow flowers, besides many that I failed to recognize as we rushed along. Here, too, the mocking-birds perched on the wires and sang to us, and the poet of the party was inspired to write his lines on 'A Prairie Pool,' one of many which we passed on our way."
I here give the little poem to which Mrs. Morgan refers. The fatigues of the day before were yet upon me, and I ensconced myself near one of the windows to have a silent, quiet little spell all to myself. It was while thus abstracted, that one of the many pools, left by the recent storm, looked at me with its sunlit face and said as follows:
THE PRAIRIE POOL
Within my heart I hold the skies,
Whatever hue they seem to wear;
In tempest gloom, or sunlight clear,
Their storm and shine alike I prize.
I lonely am, and motionless,
And yet, what great things come to me!