n the railroad cyars ag'in, and the
level country had crinkled up into hills, and the hills had riz up
into mountains, all a-blazin' out majestical' in the joy of yaller
and scarlet and green and crimson, that I raley got my sight and
knowed I had it. Yes, the Blue Grass is fine and pretty and smooth
and heavenly fair; but the mountains is my nateral and everlastin'
element. They gethered round me at my birth; they bowed down their
proud heads to listen at my first weak cry; they cradled me on their
broad knees; they suckled me at their hard but ginerous breasts.
Whether snow-kivered, or brown, or green, or many-colored, they
never failed to speak great, silent words to me whensoever I lifted
up my eyes to 'em; they still holds in their friendly embrace all
that is dear to me, living or dead; and, women, if I don't see 'em
in heaven, I 'll be lonesome and homesick thar.

"Yes, when I laid eyes on them well-beloved forms, I knowed for sure
I had my sight. And the folks in the cyar they knowed it, too. I
am in gineral one to keep things locked and pinned down inside me;
but for once I let go all holts and turnt a-loose. Then and thar I
bu'sted out into shouts of joy and songs of praise; I magnified the
Lord and all His works; I testified of my salvation from blindness
of body and sperrit; I hollered till natur' went plumb back on me
and I could n't fetch nary 'nother breath.

"Then when I stepped off the train, thar was the living human faces
of my own blood, John and Marthy, and the eight young uns whose
countenances I had never beheld. And as I gazed, women, more scales
drapped from my long-blind eyes. In the face of John here, the boy
I had allus abused for no-git-up and shiftless, I beheld
loving-kindness and onselfishness writ large and fair; looking on
little Evy, I seed love divine in her tender eyes, and light raying
out from her yaller hair and from the other seven smaller head'
bunched around her like cherubim'. And Marthy! Right here, women,
I ax your pardon if I stop a spell, for of a truth words fails me
and tears squenches me. What did I see in that kind, gentle,
patient face of hern? Women, it were the very living sperrit of
Christ hisself I seed thar--the sperrit that returned love for hate,
mercy for revilement, joy and life for curses and death. Yes, when
them eyes of hers was turnt on me so full of love, right thar my
heart broke. I had bemeaned and berated and faulted her so
continual',