Golden Grain Garnered from the World's Great Harvest-field of Knowledge: Comprising Selections from the Ablest Modern Writers of Prose, Poetry, and Legendary Lore
General
Golden Grain Garnered from the World's Great Harvest-field of Knowledge: Comprising Selections from the Ablest Modern Writers of Prose, Poetry, and Legendary Lore
American literature
I supposed this was the place where I "should bear off first to the
left, and then to the right." I went across, but on the other side
of the dam there were only--as it appeared to me--flat, smooth, damp
rocks and no trace of a road; on the opposite side, the right side of
the dam, there was a well-trodden path. I examined both sides several
times, and although it appeared to be contrary to the direction I had
received, I decided on choosing the broader road or path, which was
continued on the right hand side of the water. As long as it followed
the course of the dark lake, the road was good and passable, but
suddenly it turned off in a direction which, according to my ideas,
was the very opposite of the one I should take, and lost itself in a
confused net of paths and cattle-tracks amid the darkness of the forest.
Inexpressibly tired of this anxious intricate search, I threw myself
down on the soft moss to rest for a while, but the fatigue conquered
the fears of the lonely forest, and I cannot now tell how long I dozed.
On hearing a wild cry, the echo of which still resounded in my ears
when I awoke, I jumped to my feet. I felt comforted by the song of the
red-breast, and I thought I felt less lonely and deserted as long as I
heard the merry notes of the thrush.
The sky was overcast and the darkness of the forest had increased
considerably. A fine rain was falling, which imparted renewed life
to the plants and trees, and filled the air with a fresh, aromatic
fragrance; it also seemed to call to life all the nocturnal sounds
and notes of the forest. Among the tops of the fir trees above me, I
heard a hollow, metallic sound, like the croaking of the frog and a
penetrating whistling and piping. Round about me was a buzzing sound,
as if from a hundred spinning-wheels, but the most terrible of all
these sounds was, that they at one time seemed close to your ear, and
in another moment far away; now they were interrupted by frolicsome,
wild cries, and a flapping of wings,--now by distant cries of distress,
on which a sudden silence followed again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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