The weather was hot and the
atmosphere seemed to be lifeless and heavy. Our road lay over gentle
hills, in a state of nature. The grass had but in few places been
disturbed by the plough, or the trees by the axe. The red clay soil
seemed fitter for the miner than the farmer.
At the distance of seven miles, we came to a remarkable locality of
springs strongly impregnated with sulphur, which bubbled up from the
ground. They were remarkably clear and cold, and deposited a light
sediment of sulphur, along the little rills by which they found an
outlet into a rapid stream, which was tributary to the Mississippi.
Five miles beyond these springs, we reached the valley of the Merrimack,
just at nightfall; and notwithstanding the threatening atmosphere, and
the commencement of rain, before we descended to the stream, we
prevailed with the ferryman to go down and set us over, which we urged
with the view of reaching a house within less than a mile of the other
bank. He landed us at the right spot; but the darkness had now become so
intense that we could not keep the road, and groped our way along an old
wheel-track into the forest.
Pages:
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130