text_original: I have no space to describe that trip overland, which reminded me at every stage of the march against Kaskaskia, the woods, the chocolate streams, the coffee colored swamps flecked with dead leaves,  and at length the prairies, the grass not waist high now, but young and tender, giving forth the acrid smell of spring.
text_transcription: I HAVE NO SPACE TO DESCRIBE THAT TRIP OVER LAND WHICH REMINDED ME AT EVERY STAGE OF THE MARCH AGAINST CASKESCHIA THE WOODS THE CHOCOLATE STREAMS THE COFFEE COLOURED SWAMPS FLECKED WITH DEAD LEAVES AND AT LENGTH THE PRAIRIES THE GRASS NOT WASTE HIGH NOW BUT YOUNG AND TENDER GIVING FORTH THE ACRID SMELL OF SPRING
phonemes: aɪ hæv nˈoʊ spˈeɪs tə dᵻskɹˈaɪb ðæt tɹˈɪp ˌoʊvɚlˈænd, wˌɪtʃ ɹᵻmˈaɪndᵻd mˌiː æɾ ˈɛvɹi stˈeɪdʒ ʌvðə mˈɑːɹtʃ ɐɡˈɛnst kæskˈæskiə, ðə wˈʊdz, ðə tʃˈɑːklət stɹˈiːmz, ðə kˈɔfi kˈʌlɚd swˈɑːmps flˈɛkt wɪð dˈɛd lˈiːvz,  ænd æt lˈɛŋθ ðə pɹˈɛɹiz, ðə ɡɹˈæs nˌɑːt wˈeɪst hˈaɪ nˈaʊ, bˌʌt jˈʌŋ ænd tˈɛndɚ, ɡˈɪvɪŋ fˈɔːɹθ ðɪ ˈækɹɪd smˈɛl ʌv spɹˈɪŋ.