Harper's New Monthly Magazine: No. XVI.—September, 1851—Vol. III.Various
History
Harper's New Monthly Magazine: No. XVI.—September, 1851—Vol. III.
Various
American literature -- Periodicals; Civilization -- Periodicals; Culture -- Periodicals
"I had left my friend's house one evening, just before dusk, with the
intention of skating a short distance up the noble Kennebeck, which
glided directly before the door. The evening was fine and clear. The new
moon peered from her lofty seat, and cast her rays on the frosty pines
that skirted the shore, until they seemed the realization of a
fairy-scene. All Nature lay in a quiet which she sometimes chooses to
assume, while water, earth, and air seemed to have sunken into repose.
"I had gone up the river nearly two miles, when, coming to a little
stream which emptied into the larger, I turned in to explore its course.
Fir and hemlock of a century's growth met overhead, and formed an
evergreen archway, radiant with frost-work. All was dark within; but I
was young and fearless, and as I peered into the unbroken forest, that
reared itself to the borders of the stream, I laughed in very
joyousness. My wild hurra rang through the woods, and I stood listening
to the echo that reverberated again and again, until all was hushed.
Occasionally a night-bird would flap its wings from some tall oak.
"The mighty lords of the forest stood as if naught but time could bow
them. I thought how oft the Indian-hunter concealed himself behind these
very trees--how oft the arrow had pierced the deer by this very stream,
and how oft his wild halloo had rung for his victory. I watched the owls
as they fluttered by, until I almost fancied myself one of them, and
held my breath to listen to their distant hooting.
"All of a sudden a sound arose; it seemed from the very ice beneath my
feet. It was loud and tremendous at first, until it ended in one long
yell. I was appalled. Never before had such a noise met my ears. I
thought it more than mortal--so fierce, and amid such an unbroken
solitude, that it seemed a fiend from hell had blown a blast from an
infernal trumpet. Presently I heard the twigs on the shore snap, as if
from the tread of some animal, and the blood rushed back to my forehead
with a bound that made my skin burn, and I felt relieved that I had to
contend with things of earthly and not spiritual mould, as I first
fancied. My energies returned, and I looked around me for some means of
defense. The moon shone through the opening by which I had entered the
forest, and considering this the best means of escape, I darted toward
it like an arrow. It was hardly a hundred yards distant, and the swallow
could scarcely excel my desperate flight; yet, as I turned my eyes to
the shore, I could see two dark objects dashing through the underbrush
at a pace nearly double that of my own. By their great speed, and the
short yells which they occasionally gave, I knew at once that they were
the much-dreaded gray wolf.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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