34 THE FORESTERS. 



Though long and rough the road before us rose, 

 And toil and evening urged us to repose, 

 Yet were the forest glooms at once preferred 

 To this vile Hottentot's most beastly herd. 

 So thence up towering steeps again we scale, 

 And trace the depths of many a darksome vale ; 

 While oft some oak's huge, antiquated form, 

 That through long ages had defied the storm ; 

 Whose hollow trunks had lodged the skulking bear, 

 W hile owls and 'possums found concealment there, 

 Rose like the ruins of some revered pile, 

 While moss and lichens its hoar arms defile ; 

 Great in distress it mouldering drops away, 

 Time's mournful monitor of life's decay. 

 Night's shades at last descend — the stars appear — 

 Dull barking dogs proclaim the village near ; 

 Soon Wyalusing rcund us we survey, 

 And finished here the labors of the day. 

 The inn was silent, not a mortal there, 

 Before the fire each plants his crazy chair, 

 W 7 hen slow down stairs a cautious step was heard, 

 And Job, the landlord soberly appeared ; 

 Begged our excuse — bewailed his luckless lot, 

 W T ife in the straw, and every thing forgot ; 

 So finding honest Job so hard bestead, 



W r e skinned our squirrels, supped, and went to bed. 



* 



The morning dawned, again we took the road, 

 Each musket shouldered o'er the lightened load, 

 Through Wyalusing's plains we gaily pass, 

 'Midst matted fields of rank luxuriant grass. 



