THE DARK PLAINS. 297 



When at length we entered upon the road that led through 

 this forest, the sweetest music had never held me so com- 

 pletely entranced as when I looked up to these lofty trees, 

 extending their branches beyond my ken, with foliage 

 too dense for the sun to penetrate, and all the mysterious 

 accompaniments of the wood, its silence and darkness, 

 its meanings and its echoes. I watched the scenes as we 

 rode slowly by them, the immense pillars that rose out 

 of a level plain, strewed with brown foliage, and interspersed 

 with a few bushes and straggling vines ; the dark sum- 

 mits of the white pines that rose above the round heads 

 of the other species which were the prevailing timber; 

 the twilight that pervaded these woods even at high noon ; 

 and I thought of their seemingly boundless extent, of 

 their mysterious solitude, and their unspeakable beauty. 

 Certain religious enthusiasts speak of a precise moment 

 when they feel a certain change that places them in 

 communication with Heaven. If one is ever in a similar 

 manner baptized with the love of nature, it was at this 

 moment I felt that hidden influence which, like the first 

 emotion of love, binds the heart with an unceasing de- 

 votion. 



I did not at this early age examine individual objects. 

 Yet now and then the note of some solitary bird, or the 

 motions of a squirrel on the outer trees of the wood, held 

 my attention while I was absorbed in a revery of delight. 

 An occasional clearing, containing a cottage with its 

 rustic appendages, opened the sunshine into our path, 

 and made the wood cheerful by this pleasant contrast. 

 When at length we emerged from this gloomy region into 

 the brightness and cheerfulness of the open country, I 

 still dwelt upon the quiet grandeur of its solitudes, and 

 have never forgotten the impressions I had received from 

 them, nor the passionate interest awakened in me before 

 my journey. 



13* 



