The lost hunter: A tale of early timesAdams, John Turvill
General
The lost hunter: A tale of early times
Adams, John Turvill
Adventure stories; Indians of North America -- Fiction; New England -- Fiction
The narrow road which led to the Falls descended a declivity, where it
left the main street until it came to within a few feet of the surface
of the river, then curving round the base of the hill, it skirted the
winding margin of the stream until it ascended another hill, on the
top of which, from a platform of level rock, one of the finest views
was commanded. The path was slippery with ice, and in descending the
declivity the arm of Bernard was necessary to support the uncertain
steps of his companion. It was with a sort of tremor he offered it, of
which Faith was all unconscious. She took it without hesitation, and
stepping cautiously over the glazed surface, and laughing at each
other's slips, the young couple pursued their walk. On their right was
a steep hill, rising in some places to a height of one hundred feet
above their heads, covered over, for a considerable distance along the
road, with the perennial beauty of the graceful hemlock and savin, now
resplendent in jewels; and on the left the Yaupaae, its frozen level
hid in snow, out of which the trees and shrubs on the little islands
raised their silver armor glittering in the sun. In the distance,
and visible from the greater part of the road, the river, in a narrow
chasm, dashed down the rocks. An unusual quantity of snow had lately
fallen, which, having been succeeded by heavy rains, had swollen the
stream to more than double its ordinary size. It was evident
that, what in the language of the country is called a freshet was
commencing. Such is the name given to those swellings of the water,
the most formidable of which commonly occur in the month of February,
or early in the Spring, when the overcharged rivers, bursting their
boundaries and overflowing the neighboring lowlands, sometimes
occasion great damage to property, sweeping away bridges, and mills,
and dams, with irresistible violence.
The roaring of the Falls had been long distinguishable, but, it was
not until the first curve in the road had been turned, that they came
into sight."
"Look! Faith," cried Bernard, as they burst into view; "did you ever
see them more magnificent?"
The attention of the young lady had been, hitherto, too much engrossed
by the necessity of watching her footsteps down the descent, to give
much heed to surrounding objects; but, now, she looked up, having
reached the comparatively level spot, which extended as far as
the second hill or rising ground above mentioned, and felt all the
admiration expressed by her companion.
"They are grand," she replied. "I have beheld this view a thousand
times, and never weary of its beauty. I do not know whether I love it
more in summer or in winter."
"How would you express the difference of your feelings, then and now?"
"I am afraid I have not the skill to put the feeling into words. But,
the impression, on a day like this, is of a magnificence and splendor
unusual to the earth. In summer, the beauty though less astonishing,
is of a softer character."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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