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THE great proportion of evergreen trees, shrubs, and creepers in the
American mountains makes the winter scenery less dreary than might at
first be imagined; but even the nakedness of the deciduous trees is not
long observable. The first snow clothes them in a dress so feathery and
graceful that, like a change in the costume of beauty, it seems lovelier
than the one put off; and the constant renewal of its freshness and
delicacy goes on with a variety and novelty which is scarce dreamed of
by those who see snow only in cities, or in countries where it is rare.
The roads in so mountainous a region as the Catterskills are in winter
not only difficult, but dangerous. The following extracts from an
account of a sleigh-ride in a more level part of the country will serve
to give an idea of it:—
“As we got farther on, the new snow became deeper. The occasional
farm-houses were almost wholly buried, the black chimney alone appearing
above the ridgy drifts; while the tops of the doors and windows lay
below the level of the trodden road, from which a descending passage was
cut to the threshold, like the entrance to a cave in the earth. The
fences were quite invisible. The fruit-trees looked diminished to
shrubberies of snow-flowers, their trunks buried under the visible
surface, and their branches loaded with the still falling flakes, till
they bent beneath the burden. Nothing was abroad, for nothing could stir
out of the road without danger of being lost; and we dreaded to meet
even a single sleigh, lest in turning out the horses should ‘slump’
beyond their depth in the untrodden drifts. The poor animals began to
labor severely, and sank at every step over their knees in the clogging
and wool-like substance; and the long and cumbrous sleigh rose and fell
in the deep pits like a boat in a heavy sea. It seemed impossible to get
on. Twice we brought up with a terrible plunge, and stood suddenly
still; for the runners had struck in too deep for the strength of the
horses, and with the snow-shovels, which formed a part of the furniture
of the vehicle, we dug them from their concrete beds. Our progress at
last was reduced to scarce a mile in the hour, and we began to have
apprehensions that our team would give out between the post-houses.
Fortunately it was still warm, for the numbness of cold would have
paralyzed our already flagging exertions.
“We had reached the summit of a long hill with the greatest difficulty.
The poor beasts stood panting and reeking with sweat; the runners of the
sleigh were clogged with hard cakes of snow, and the air was close and
dispiriting. We came to a stand-still, with the vehicle lying over
almost on its side; and I stepped out to speak to the driver and look
forward. It was a discouraging prospect; a long deep valley lay before
us, closed at the distance of a couple of miles by another steep hill,
through a cleft in the top of which lay our way: we could not even
distinguish the line of the road between. Our disheartened animals stood
at this moment buried to their breasts; and to get forward, without
rearing at every step, seemed impossible. The driver sat on his box,
looking uneasily down into the valley. It was one undulating ocean of
snow,—not a sign of a human habitation to be seen, and even the trees
indistinguishable from the general mass by their whitened and overladen
branches. The storm had ceased, but the usual sharp cold that succeeds a
warm fall of snow had not yet lightened the clamminess of the new-fallen
flakes, and they clung around the foot like clay, rendering every step a
toil.
“We heaved out of the pit into which the sleigh had settled, and for the
first mile it was down hill, and we got on with comparative ease. The
sky was by this time almost bare, a dark slaty mass of clouds alone
settling on the horizon in the quarter of the wind; while the sun, as
powerless as moonlight, poured with dazzling splendor on the snow, and
the gusts came keen and bitter across the sparkling waste, rimming the
nostrils as if with bands of steel, and penetrating to the innermost
nerve with their pungent iciness. No protection seemed of any avail. The
whole surface of the body ached as if it were laid against a slab of
ice. The throat closed instinctively, and contracted its unpleasant
respiration. The body and limbs drew irresistibly together to economize,
like a hedge-hog, the exposed surface. The hands and feet felt
transmuted to lead; and across the forehead, below the pressure of the
cap, there was a binding and oppressive ache, as if a bar of frosty iron
had been let into the skull. The mind, meantime, seemed freezing
up,—unwillingness to stir, and inability to think of anything but the
cold, becoming every instant more decided.
“From the bend of the valley our difficulties became more serious. The
drifts often lay across the road like a wall, some feet above the heads
of the horses; and we had dug through one or two, and had been once
upset, and often near it, before we came to the steepest part of the
ascent. The horses had by this time begun to feel the excitement of the
rum given them by the driver at the last halt, and bounded on through
the snow with continuous leaps, jerking the sleigh after them with a
violence that threatened momently to break the traces. The steam from
their bodies froze instantly, and covered them with a coat like
hoar-frost; and spite of their heat, and the unnatural and violent
exertions they were making, it was evident by the pricking of their ears
and the sudden crouch of the body when a stronger blast swept over, that
the cold struck through even their hot and intoxicated blood.
“We toiled up, leap after leap; and it seemed miraculous to me that the
now infuriated animals did not burst a blood-vessel or crack a sinew
with every one of those terrible springs. The sleigh plunged on after
them, stopping dead and short at every other moment, and reeling over
the heavy drifts like a boat in a surging sea. A finer crystallization
had meanwhile taken place upon the surface of the moist snow; and the
powdered particles flew almost insensibly on the blasts of wind, filling
the eyes and hair, and cutting the skin with a sensation like the touch
of needle-points. The driver and his maddened but almost exhausted team
were blinded by the glittering and whirling eddies; the cold grew
intenser every moment, the forward motion gradually less and less; and
when, with the very last effort apparently, we reached a spot on the
summit of the hill which from its exposed situation had been kept bare
by the wind, the patient and persevering whip brought his horses to a
stand, and despaired, for the first time, of his prospects of getting
on.”
The description, which is too long to extract entire, details still
severer difficulties; after which the writer and driver mounted the
leaders, and finally arrived, nearly dead with cold, at the tavern. Such
cold as is described here, however, is what is called “an old-fashioned
spell,” and occurs now but seldom.
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