pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes,But what were his arguments few people know,
For the court did not think they were equally wise.
So his lordship decreed with a grave solemn tone,
Decisive and clear without one “if” or “but” —
That whenever the Nose put his spectacles on,
By daylight or candlelight, Eyes should be shut.
INDIAN SUMMER
By the purple haze that lies
On the distant rocky height,
By the deep blue of the skies,
By the smoky amber light,
Through the forest arches streaming,
Where Nature on her throne sits dreaming,
And the sun is scarcely gleaming,
Through the cloudless snowy white, —
Winter’s lovely herald greets us,
Ere the ice-crowned giant meets us.
A mellow softness fills the air, —
No breeze on wanton wings steals by,
To break the holy quiet there,
Or make the waters fret and sigh,
Or the yellow alders shiver,
That bend to kiss the placid river,
Flowing on and on forever;
But the little waves are sleeping,
O’er the pebbles slowly creeping,
That last night were flashing, leaping,
Driven by the restless breeze,
In lines of foam beneath yon trees.
Dress’d in robes of gorgeous hue,
Brown and gold with crimson blent;
The forest to the waters blue
Its own enchanting tints has lent; —
In their dark depths, life-like glowing,
We see a second forest growing,
Each pictured leaf and branch bestowing
A fairy grace to that twin wood,
Mirror’d within the crystal flood.
’Tis pleasant now in forest shades;
The Indian hunter strings his bow,
To track through dark entangling glades
The antler’d deer and bounding doe, —
Or launch at night the birch canoe,
To spear the finny tribes that dwell
On sandy bank, in weedy cell,
Or pool, the fisher knows right well —
Seen by the red and vivid glow
Of pine-torch at his vessel’s bow.
This dreamy Indian summer-day,
Attunes the soul to tender sadness;
We love – but joy not in the ray —
It is not summer’s fervid gladness,
But a melancholy glory,
Hovering softly round decay,
Like swan that sings her own sad story,
Ere she floats in death away.
The day declines, what splendid dyes,
In fleckered waves of crimson driven,
Float o’er the saffron sea that lies
Glowing within the western heaven!
Oh, it is a peerless even!
See, the broad red sun has set,
But his rays are quivering yet
Through Nature’s vale of violet,
Streaming bright o’er lake and hill,
But earth and forest lie so still,
It sendeth to the heart a chill;
We start to check the rising tear —
’Tis beauty sleeping on her bier.
A WINTER JOURNEY
On the first day of January, 1776, I set out from Beaver Lake, attended by two men, and provided with dried meat, frozen fish, and a small quantity of roasted maize, sweetened with sugar, which I had brought from Sault Sainte Marie, for this express occasion. Our provisions were drawn by the men, upon sledges made of thin boards, a foot in breadth, and curved upwards in front, after the Indian fashion.
Each day’s journey was commenced at three o’clock in the morning. Although the sun did not rise until somewhat late, at no time was it wholly dark, as the northern lights and the reflection of the snow afforded always sufficient light. In addition, the river, the course of which I was ascending, was a guide with the aid of which I was not afraid of being lost.
As the snow was four feet deep, it rendered my progress so much slower than I had expected, that I soon began to fear the want of provisions. Moreover, I had not gone far before the wood began to dwindle away, both in size and quantity, so that it was with difficulty we could collect sufficient for making a fire, and without fire we could not drink; for melted snow was our only resource, the ice on the river being too thick to be penetrated by the axe.
As the weather continued severely cold, I made my two men sleep on the same skin with myself, one on each side, and though this arrangement was particularly beneficial to myself, it increased the comfort of all. At the usual hour in the morning, we attempted to rise, but found that a foot of snow had fallen upon our bed, as well as extinguished and covered our fire. In this situation we remained till daybreak, when, with much exertion, we collected fresh fuel. Proceeding on our journey, we found that we could no longer use our sledges on account of the quantity of newly fallen snow, and we were now compelled to carry our provisions on our backs. Unfortunately they were a diminished burden.
For the next two days the depth of the snow, and the violence of the winds, so greatly retarded our journey that my men began to fear being starved. However, I kept up their courage by telling them that I should certainly kill red deer and elk, of which the tracks were visible along the banks of the river, and on the sides of the hills. But to do this was not easy, as the animals kept within the shelter of the woods, and the snow was too deep to let me seek them there.
A little later our situation was rendered still more alarming by a fresh fall of snow, which added nearly two feet to the depth of that which was on the ground before. At the same time, we were scarcely able to collect enough wood for making a fire to melt the snow. The only trees around us were small willows, and the hills were bare of every vegetable production such as could rear itself above the snow.
On the twentieth, the last remains of our provisions were exhausted, but I had taken the precaution to conceal a cake of chocolate, in reserve for an occasion such as this. Towards evening, my men, after walking the whole day, began to lose their strength, but we, nevertheless, kept on our feet till it was late. When we encamped, I desired them to fill the kettle with snow, and showing them the chocolate, told them it would keep us alive for five days at least, during which we would surely meet with some Indian at the chase. This revived their spirits, and, the kettle being filled with two gallons of water, I put into it one square of the chocolate. The quantity was scarcely sufficient to alter the color of the water, but each of us drank half a gallon of the warm liquid, by
