I did not hear all the talk in the carriage, but pulled my horse in behind and so rode on moodily, gazing out across the pleasant lands to the foot of old Catoctin and the dim Blue Ridge.

A sudden discontent assailed me.

Must I live here always--must I settle down and be simply a farmer forever?
I wanted to ride over there, over the Rock Fish Gap, where once King Charles' men broke a bottle in honor of the king, and took possession of all the lands west of the Pacific.

The West--the word in some way thrilled in my blood--I knew not why.

I was a boy.