CHAP. XXXIII.] DREARY FOREST SCENE. 239 



magnitude to have occurred for many centuries pre 

 vious to 1811. 



Having explored the margin of the Great Prairie, 

 and seen the sunk country several miles west of 

 New Madrid, I returned by a different path through 

 the woods, often losing my way, till I fell into the 

 main road for the last six miles, which was cut 

 straight through the forest, and was at this season 

 singularly monotonous and dreary. It was furrowed 

 with long deep ruts, cut in black mud, and full of 

 miry water. The sky was cloudy, and the plain as 

 level as if it had never been disturbed by the slightest 

 subterranean movement since it originated. The 

 trees were, for the most part, leafless, and almost all 

 of the same height, with no evergreens below them, 

 and no grass ; but, instead of it, a sombre brown 

 covering of damp and dead oak leaves, strewed evenly 

 over the ground. At one point I saw the rotting 

 trunks of several fallen trees, and near them an old 

 oak, on the boughs of which, near the base, a group of 

 five turkey-buzzards were perched, in perfect charac 

 ter with the rest of the scene. Twilight was coming 

 on, and the woods were silent ; but, as I approached 

 the river, the silence was agreeably broken by the 

 varied and liquid notes of a mocking-bird, and, at the 

 same time, one of the large woodpeckers, with its 

 brilliant plumage, flew over my head, as if to remind 

 me that at other seasons the solitude is cheered by 

 the song and bright colours of birds, when the leaves 

 of the trees unfold themselves, and the sun s heat 

 would then be so intense, that a traveller would gladly 

 retreat into the shades of the dense forest. 



