134 THE HIVE OF THE BEE-HUNTER. 
was the freshness and beauty of a new creation on every 
thing; and the landscape of the previous night was in- 
deed altered. The long jutting point where stood the 
squatter’s hut and “clearing,” had disappeared—house, 
garden-spot, fields, and fences, were obliterated; the 
water-washed banks were lined only with the unbroken 
forest. 
The stranger, while looking, would never have 
dreamed that the axe and the plough had been in the 
vicinity. 
The caving banks had swept away all signs of hu- 
manity, and left every thing about us in wild and primi- 
tive solitude. 
