In a few years, however, this sombre scene assumes a more cheerful aspect. An under-growth springs up, that soon conceals the skeletons of the dead trees: plants and shrubs appear—often of different genera and species from those that hitherto usurped the soil—and the ruin is no longer apparent. The mournful picture gives place to one of luxuriant sweetness: the more brilliant sheen of the young trees and shrubs, now covering the ground, and contrasting agreeably with the sombre hues of the surrounding forest. No longer reigns that melancholy silence that, for a while, held dominion over the scene. If, at intervals, be heard the wild scream of the couguar, or the distant howling of wolves, these scarcely interrupt the music falling endlessly upon the ear—the red cardinals, the orioles, the warbling fringillidae, and the polyglot thrushes—who meet here, as if by agreement, to make this lovely sylvan spot the scene of their forest concerts.
Shortly after leaving the cabin of this young backwoodsman, my path, hitherto passing under the gloomy shadows of the forest, debouched upon just such a scene. I had been warned of its proximity. My host, at parting, had given me directions as to how I should find my way across the herrikin—through which ran the trace that conducted to the clearing of the squatter, some two miles further down the creek. I was prepared to behold a tract of timber laid prostrate by the storm—the trees all lying in one direction, and exhibiting the usual scathed and dreary aspect. Instead of this, on emerging from the dark forest, I was agreeably surprised by a glorious landscape that burst upon my view.
It was, as already stated, that season of the year when the American woods array themselves in their most attractive robes—when the very leaves appear as if they were flowers, so varied and brilliant are their hues—when the foliage of the young beeches becomes a pale yellow, and glimmers translucent against the sun—when the maples are dying off of a deep red, and the sumac and sassafras turning respectively crimson and scarlet—when the large drupes of the Osage orange, the purple clusters of the fox-grape, and the golden berries of the persimmon or Virginian lotus, hang temptingly from the tree: just at that season when the benignant earth has perfected, and is about to yield up, her annual bounty; and all nature is gratefully rejoicing at the gift. No wonder I was agreeably impressed by the gorgeous landscape—no wonder I reigned up, and permitted my eyes to dwell upon it; while my heart responded to the glad chorus, that, from bird and bee, was rising up to heaven around me! I, too felt joyous under the reflection that, amid such lovely scenes, I had chosen my future home.
Chapter Eighteen.
A Backwoods Venus.
After indulging for some time in a sort of dreamy contemplation I once more gave the bridle to my horse, and rode onward. I was prepared for a tortuous path: my host had forewarned me of this. The herrikin, he said, was only three hundred yards in breadth; but I should have to ride nearly twice that distance in crossing it. His statement proved literally true. The old trace, passing down the creek bottom, had run at right angles to the direction of the storm; and, of course, the trees had fallen perpendicularly across the path—where they still lay, thick as hurdles set for a donkey-race. Some of them could be stepped over by a horse, and a few might be “jumped,” but there were others that rose breast high; and a flying-leap over a five-barred gate would have been an easy exploit, compared with clearing one of these monstrous barriers. I might add, also, from experience, that leaping a log is a feat of considerable danger. There is no room for “topping;” and should the iron hoof strike, there is nothing that will yield. On the other side, the rider has the pleasant prospect of a broken neck—either for himself or his horse. Not being in any particular hurry, I took the matter quietly; and wound my way through a labyrinth worthy of being the maze of Fair Rosamond.
I could not help remarking the singular effect which the herrikin had produced. To the right and left, as far as my view could range, extended an opening, like some vast avenue that had been cleared for the passage of giants, and by giants made! On each side appeared the unbroken forest—the trunks standing like columns, with shadowy aisles between: their outward or edge-row trending in a straight line, as if so planted. These showed not a sign that the fierce tornado had passed so near them; though others, whose limbs almost interlocked with theirs, had been mowed down without mercy by the ruthless storm.