Viewing page 67 of 121

This transcription has been completed. Contact us with corrections.

[[start page]] She was amazed when I told her how far have walked. Camped several miles on under hemlock tree at spring. Kept fire (what a change)hot grub etc. At lady's advice had corned beef and cabbage.
[[blue line separating days' entries]]
In morning went on and am now at "Inspiration Point" near Mombasha lake. Being a poet, I can't let such a challenge go by, so I let the cogs turn and out comes this pastoral sonnet, no masterpiece to be sure. 
[[end page]] 
[[start page]]
On Inspiration Point [[Title]]
Jumbled green hills, across a wide expanse of mtn. land where songbirds sweetly sing 
And countless hordes of new grown foliage dance
Upon the blithesome zephyr breeze of spring. 
The warbling of A woodthrush [[strikethrough]] warbles somewhere [[/strikethrough]] far below 
A flicker calls in harsh stacatto tone 
These hills were much the same long years ago 
When first the restless hearted white man came The rauccous calling of a fledgling crow 
Waft upward to this loft ledge of stone