The road, after leaving Woodstock, pursued the course of the winding
Thames. We passed by the house of Colonel Light, in a situation of
superlative natural beauty on a rising ground above the river. A lawn,
tolerably cleared, sloped down to the margin, while the opposite shore
rose clothed in varied woods, which had been managed with great taste,
and a feeling for the picturesque not common here; but the Colonel being
himself an accomplished artist accounts for this. We also passed
Beechville, a small but beautiful village, round which the soil is
reckoned very fine and fertile; a number of most respectable settlers
have recently bought land and erected houses here. The next place we
came to was Oxford, or rather Ingersol, where we stopped to dine and
rest previous to plunging into an extensive forest called the Pine
Woods.
Oxford is a little village, presenting the usual saw-mill,
grocery-store and tavern, with a dozen shanties congregated on the bank
of the stream, which is here rapid and confined by high banks. Two
back-woodsmen were in deep consultation over a wagon which had broken
down in the midst of that very forest road we were about to traverse,
and which they described as most execrable--in some parts even
dangerous. As it was necessary to gird up my strength for the
undertaking, I laid in a good dinner, consisting of slices of dried
venison, broiled, hot cakes of Indian corn, eggs, butter, and a bowl of
milk. Of this good fare I partook in company with the two back-woodsmen,
who appeared to me perfect specimens of their class--tall and strong,
and bronzed and brawny, and shaggy and unshaven--very much like two
bears set on their hind legs; rude, but not uncivil, and spare of
speech, as men who had lived long at a distance from their kind. They
were too busy, however, and so was I, to feel or express any mutual
curiosity. Time was valuable, appetite urgent; so we discussed our
venison steaks in silence, and after dinner I proceeded.
The forest land through which I had lately passed was principally
covered with _hard timber_, as oak, walnut, elm, basswood. We were now
in a forest of pines, rising tall and dark, and monotonous on either
side. The road, worse certainly "than fancy ever feigned or fear
conceived," put my neck in perpetual jeopardy. The driver had often to
dismount and partly fill up some tremendous hole with boughs before we
could pass, or drag or lift the wagon over trunks of trees; or we
sometimes sank into abysses from which it is a wonder to me that we
_ever_ emerged. A natural question were--why did you not get out and
walk?--Yes indeed! I only wish it had been possible. Immediately on the
border of the road, so called, was the wild, tangled, untrodden thicket,
as impervious to the foot as the road was impassable, rich with
vegetation, variegated verdure, and flowers of loveliest dye, but the
haunt of the rattlesnake, and all manner of living and creeping things
not pleasant to encounter, or even to think of.
The mosquitos, too, began to be troublesome; but not being yet in full
force, I contrived to defend myself pretty well, by waving a green
branch before me whenever my two hands were not employed in forcible
endeavours to keep my seat. These seven miles of pine forest we
traversed in three hours and a half; and then succeeded some miles of
open flat country called the Oak Plains, and so called because covered
with thickets and groups of oak dispersed with a park-like and beautiful
effect; and still flowers, flowers everywhere. The soil appeared sandy,
and not so rich as in other parts. The road was comparatively good; and
as we approached London, clearings and new settlements appeared on every
side.
The sun had set amid a tumultuous mass of lurid threatening clouds, and
a tempest was brooding in the air, when I reached the town, and found
very tolerable accommodations in the principal inn. I was so terribly
bruised and beaten with fatigue, that to move was impossible, and even
to speak too great an effort. I cast my weary aching limbs upon the bed,
and requested of the very civil and obliging young lady who attended to
bring me some books and newspapers. She brought me thereupon an old
compendium of geography, published at Philadelphia forty years ago, and
three old newspapers.
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