Her preparations had been made too; and the day after the
steamer sailed we set off on our journey to the south. I do
not know much about that journey. For the most part the things
by the way were like objects in a mist to me and no more
clearly discerned. Now and then there came a rift in the mist;
something woke me up out of my sorrow-dream; and of those
points and of what struck my eyes at those minutes I have a
most intense and vivid recollection. I can feel yet the still
air of one early morning's start, and hear the talk between my
aunt and the hotel people about the luggage. My aunt was a
great traveller and wanted no one to help her or manage for
her. I remember acutely a beggar who spoke to us on the
sidewalk at Washington. We staid over a few days in
Washington, and then hurried on; for when she was on the road
my aunt Gary lost not a minute. We went, I presume, as fast as
we could without travelling all night; and our last day's
journey added that too.

By that time my head was getting steadied, perhaps, from the
grief which had bewildered it; or grief was settling down and
taking its proper place at the bottom of my heart, leaving the
surface as usual. For twelve hours that day we went by a slow
railway train through a country of weary monotony. Endless
forests of pine seemed all that was to be seen; scarce ever a
village; here and there a miserable clearing and forlorn-
looking house; here and there stoppages of a few minutes to
let somebody out or take somebody in; once, to my great
surprise, a stop of rather more than a few minutes to
accommodate a lady who wanted some flowers gathered for her. I