Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXX, No. 5, May 1847Various
General
Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXX, No. 5, May 1847
Various
Literature -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals
Looking downward into the hollow, the scene was, however, entirely
different; for all the bottom of the basin, and all the lower slopes of
the hills were covered with dark shadowy woods, the gigantic trees and
massive foliage of which bore witness alike to their great antiquity,
and to the mild and favorable situation, sheltered from every wind of
heaven, which had induced their unusual growth. The hills at this hour
intercepted all the light of the setting sun, and the whole space within
the valley was filled with a misty purple shadow; through which, from
out the glades and skirts of the black woods, the silvery gleam of many
clear, still ponds met the eye; and beyond these, nearly in the centre
of the landscape, the tall gables and twisted chimneys of an old
dark-red Hall, with a solitary column of blue smoke soaring up straight
into the cloudless sky, arose the only indication in that wild scene of
the vicinity of any human being.
But although we have paused a moment on the bare brow of Clavering Edge,
to point the reader’s eye to this sequestered spot, the youth in whose
company we have journeyed hither made no such pause; but, too familiar
with the scenery, perhaps too impatient to reach the end of his ride,
turned his horse’s head short to the left, and trotted, as rapidly as
the nature of the ground would permit, along a faintly marked foot-path
which traversed the hill-side in a diagonal line, the steepness of the
declivity forbidding any more direct progress to the bottom, leading to
a narrow gorge which ran half way up the ascent, feathered with rich
dark timber.
As soon as he reached the covert of the woodland he dismounted, and
leading his horse a little way aside from the path, fastened him by the
chain of his cavalry head-stall to a tall ash-tree in the centre of a
thick coppice. Then, with a rapid step, he hurried down the path, which
became every moment more clearly defined, as it followed a clear, rapid
brook of slender volume along the gorge, which gradually widened into a
beautiful wooded valley. Within ten minutes he came to a tall park
paling of solid oaken plank, at least ten feet in height, all overrun
with the giant ivy which flourishes so verdantly in such moist
situations, affording access to the park within only by a low wooden
portal, closed by an antique iron lock of large dimensions.
This formidable barrier was, however, easily passed by the cavalier; the
lock giving way readily, and notwithstanding its rusty guise smoothly
enough, to a key which he drew from the bosom of his jerkin. Before
opening it altogether he paused, however, for a moment, and gazed
anxiously through the chink, to see, as it would seem, if there was any
one observing him. Then, satisfied that all was safe, he passed in
quickly, closing the door with a noiseless hand behind him, but taking
especial care not to lock it against his own egress.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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