"But that would be a resistance of process, if the widow succeeded," said I.
"There won't be nothin' to resist," answered Ike. "You'll never feel the process; it will always be defective—there'll be a flaw in it somewhere. Settlers on the sile must be protected."
"That," chimed in the Squire, "is la'. That was settled in the constitution. There was blood shed for that."
"But there ain't no use," continued Ike, "in goin' into particulars, and puttin' down every p'int of la'. I can scatter a thousand such cases to the four winds—have done it—can do it agin. Give me Kent and the staterts, and I'll cut my way to daylight in no time."
If there is any one who believes that such an opinion was not given for one dollar, or that hundreds have not been given in the very far West just as absurd, let them inquire further of those persons who have experienced a frontier life. Yet, Mr. Turtle lives and flourishes, gains reputation, and will die as much respected and lamented as any one.
CHAPTER XVIII.
The Wilderness around Puddleford.—The Rivers and the Forests—Suggestions of Old Times.—Footprints of the Jesuits.—Vine-covered Mounds.—Visit to the Forest.—The Early Frost.—The Forest Clock.—The Woodland Harvest.—The Last Flowers.—Nature sowing her Seed.—The Squirrel in the Hickory.—Pigeons, their Ways and their Haunts.—The Butterflies and the Bullfrog.—Nature and her Sermons.—Her Temple still open, but the High-priest gone.
Puddleford was a mere spot in the wilderness. Its region abounded with patches of improved land, and patches partly improved, and fields of stumps that the pioneer had just passed over with his axe. The great sweep of land around it, however, was a wilderness—not a thicket—not a dense mass of timber, nor a swamp—but a rolling plain of upland prairie, and heavily-wooded flats along the rivers; and it extended no one knew where, and was covered with lakes and rivers that shone, and roared, and babbled, day and night, through the great solitude. The surface of the upland was as smooth and shaven as an English park. No undergrowth obstructed the eye, and the outline of a deer might be discerned two miles distant. Trees upon the distant ground-swells, amid their quivering shadows, appeared to be riding upon waves. In this gigantic park, which overreached degrees of longitude, flowers of every form and hue budded, blossomed, faded, and died, from May until November. The prairies were so many blooming seas; and when the soft south-west stirred up their depths, they shed a gorgeous light, as if they were breathing out rainbow colors.