Historical fiction; King Philip's War, 1675-1676 -- Fiction; War stories
But when the sun, usually at that season, in the climate of Connecticut, a
bright unshrouded orb, fell towards the tree-tops which bounded the
western horizon, the old man began to grow weary with his own well-doing.
He therefore finished his discourse with a wholesome admonition to the
youths to complete their tasks before they quitted the field; and, turning
the head of his horse, he rode slowly, and with a musing air, towards the
dwellings. It is probable that for some time the thoughts of Mark were
occupied with the intellectual matter he had just been handling with so
much power; but when his little nag stopped of itself on a small eminence,
which the crooked cow-path he was following crossed, his mind yielded to
the impression of more worldly and more sensible objects. As the scene,
that drew his contemplations from so many abstract theories to the
realities of life, was peculiar to the country, and is more or less
connected with the subject of our tale, we shall endeavor briefly to
describe it.
A small tributary of the Connecticut divided the view into two nearly
equal parts. The fertile flats that extended on each of its banks for more
than a mile, had been early stripped of their burthen of forest, and they
now lay in placid meadows, or in fields from which the grain of the season
had lately disappeared, and over which the plow had already left the marks
of recent tillage. The whole of the plain, which ascended gently from the
rivulet towards the forest, was subdivided in inclosures, by numberless
fences, constructed in the rude but substantial manner of the country.
Rails, in which lightness and economy of wood had been but little
consulted, lying in zigzag lines, like the approaches which the besieger
makes in his cautious advance to the hostile fortress, were piled on each
other, until barriers seven or eight feet in height, were interposed to
the inroads of vicious cattle. In one spot, a large square vacancy had
been cut into the forest, and, though numberless stumps of trees darkened
its surface, as indeed they did many of the fields on the flats
themselves, bright, green grain was sprouting forth, luxuriantly, from the
rich and virgin soil. High against the side of an adjacent hill, that
might aspire to be called a low rocky mountain, a similar invasion had
been made on the dominion of the trees; but caprice or convenience had
induced an abandonment of the clearing, after it had ill requited the toil
of felling the timber by a single crop. In this spot, straggling, girdled,
and consequently dead trees, piles of logs, and black and charred stubs,
were seen deforming the beauty of a field, that would, otherwise, have
been striking from its deep setting in the woods. Much of the surface of
this opening, too, was now concealed by bushes of what is termed the
second growth; though, here and there, places appeared, in which the
luxuriant white clover, natural to the country, had followed the close
grazing of the flocks.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account