After indulging for some time in a sort of dreamy contemplation I once
more gave the bridle to my horse, and rode onward. I was prepared for a
tortuous path: my host had forewarned me of this. The _herrikin_, he
said, was only three hundred yards in breadth; but I should have to ride
nearly twice that distance in crossing it. His statement proved
literally true. The old trace, passing down the creek bottom, had run
at right angles to the direction of the storm; and, of course, the trees
had fallen perpendicularly across the path--where they still lay, thick
as hurdles set for a donkey-race. Some of them could be stepped over by
a horse, and a few might be "jumped," but there were others that rose
breast high; and a flying-leap over a five-barred gate would have been
an easy exploit, compared with clearing one of these monstrous barriers.
I might add, also, from experience, that leaping a log is a feat of
considerable danger. There is no room for "topping;" and should the
iron hoof strike, there is nothing that will yield. On the other side,
the rider has the pleasant prospect of a broken neck--either for himself
or his horse. Not being in any particular hurry, I took the matter
quietly; and wound my way through a labyrinth worthy of being the maze
of Fair Rosamond.
I could not help remarking the singular effect which the _herrikin_ had
produced. To the right and left, as far as my view could range,
extended an opening, like some vast avenue that had been cleared for the
passage of giants, and by giants made! On each side appeared the
unbroken forest--the trunks standing like columns, with shadowy aisles
between: their outward or edge-row trending in a straight line, as if so
planted. These showed not a sign that the fierce tornado had passed so
near them; though others, whose limbs almost interlocked with theirs,
had been mowed down without mercy by the ruthless storm.
I had arrived within fifty yards of the opposite side, and the dark
forest was again before my face; but even at that short distance, the
eye vainly endeavoured to pierce its sombre depths. I was
congratulating myself, that I had passed the numerous logs that lay
across the path, when yet one more appeared between me and the standing
trees. It had been one of the tallest victims of the tornado; and now
lay transversely to the line of the track, which cut it about midway.
On nearing this obstacle, I saw that the trace forked into two--one
going around the tops of the decaying branches, while the other took the
direction of the roots; which, with the soil still adhering to them,
formed a rounded buttress-like wall of full ten feet in diameter. The
trunk itself was not over five--that being about the thickness of the
tree. It was a matter of choice which of the two paths should be
followed: since both appeared to come together again on the opposite
side of the tree; but I had made up my mind to take neither. One of my
motives, in seeking this forest-home, had been a desire to indulge in
the exciting exercise of the chase; and the sooner I should bring my
horse into practice, the sooner I might take the field with a prospect
of success. Log-leaping was new to my Arab; and he might stand in need
of a little training to it. The log before me had open ground on both
sides; and afforded a very good opportunity for giving him his first
lesson. Thus prompted by Saint Hubert, I was about spurring forward to
the run; when a hoof-stroke falling upon my ear, summoned me to desist
from my intention.
The sound proceeded from the forest before my face; and, peering into
its darkness, I could perceive that some one, also on horseback, was
coming along the path. This caused me to change my design, or rather to
pause until the person should pass. Had I continued in my determination
to leap the log, I should, in all likelihood, have dashed my horse at
full gallop against that of the approaching traveller; since our courses
lay directly head to head.
While waiting till he should ride out of the way, I became aware that I
had committed an error--only in regard to the _sex_ of the person who
was approaching. It was not a _he_! On the contrary, something so very
different that, as soon as I had succeeded in shading the sun-glare out
of my eyes; and obtained a fair view of the equestrian traveller, my
indifference was at an end: I beheld one of the loveliest apparitions
ever made manifest in female form, or I need scarcely add, in any other.
It was a young girl--certainly not over sixteen years of age--but with
a contour close verging upon womanhood. Her beauty was of that
character which cannot be set forth by a detailed description in words.
In true loveliness there is a harmony of the features that will not
suffer them to be considered apart; nor does the eye take note of any
one, to regard it as unique or characteristic. It is satisfied with the
_coup d'oeil_ of the whole--if I may be permitted the expression. Real
beauty needs not to be considered; it is acknowledged at a glance: eye
and heart, impressed with it at the same instant, search not to study
its details.
The impression made upon me by the first sight of this young girl, was
that of something soft and strikingly beautiful, of a glorious golden
hue--the reflection of bright amber-coloured hair on a blonde skin,
tinged with a hue of vermilion--something that imparted a sort of
luminous radiance divinely feminine. Even under the shadow of the
trees, this luminous radiance was apparent--as if the face had a _halo_
around it! The reader may smile at such exalted ideas, and deem them
the offspring of a romantic fancy; but had he looked, as I, into the
liquid depths of those large eyes, with their blue irides and darker
pupils; had he gazed upon that cheek tinted as with cochineal--those
lips shaming the hue of the rose--that throat of ivory white--those
golden tresses translucent in the sunlight--he would have felt as I,
that something _shone_ before his eyes--a face such as the Athenian
fancy has elaborated into an almost living reality, in the goddess
Cytherea. In short, it was the Venus of my fancy--the very ideal I had
imbibed from gazing upon many a picture of the Grecian goddess. The
prognostication of my friend had proved emphatically false. If it was
not _Venus_ I saw before me, it appeared her _counterpart_ in human
form!
And this fair creature was costumed in the simplest manner--almost
coarsely clad. A sleeved dress of homespun with a yellowish stripe,
loosely worn, and open at the breast. A cotton "sun-bonnet" was the
only covering for her head--her bright amber-coloured hair the only
shawl upon her shoulders, over which it fell in ample luxuriance. A
string of pearls around her neck--false ones I could see--was the sole
effort that vanity seemed to have made: for there was no other article
of adornment. Even shoes and stockings were wanting; but the most
costly _chaussure_ could not have added to the elegance of those
_mignon_ feet, that, daintily protruding below the skirt of her dress,
rested along the flank of the horse.
More commonplace even than her homespun frock was the steed that carried
her--a sorry-looking animal, that resembled the skeleton of a horse with
the skin left on! There was no saddle--scarce the semblance of one. A
piece of bear-skin, strapped over the back with a rough thong, did
service for a saddle; and the little feet hung loosely down without step
or stirrup. The girl kept her seat, partly by balancing, but as much by
holding on to the high bony withers of the horse, that rose above his
shoulders like the hump of a dromedary. The scant mane, wound around
her tiny fingers scarcely covered them; while with the other hand she
clasped the black reins of an old dilapidated bridle. The want of
saddle and stirrup did not hinder her from poising herself gracefully
upon the piece of bear-skin; but hers was a figure that, could not be
ungraceful in any attitude; and, as the old horse hobbled along, the
rude movement all the more palpably displayed the magnificent moulding
of her body and limbs.
The contrast between horse and rider--the old _critter_ and the young
_creature_--was ridiculously striking: the former appearing a burlesque
on the most beautiful of quadrupeds, while the latter was the very
impersonation of the loveliest of biped forms.
It is scarcely probable that the Cyprian goddess could ever have been
brought into such a ludicrous juxtaposition--a shame upon Mercury if she
was! In classic lore we find mention of no such sorry steed; and, for
his counterpart in story, we must seek in more modern times--fixing upon
the famed charger of Calatrava's knight. But here the analogy must end.
The charms of the dark-haired Dulcinea can be brought into no
comparison with those of the golden-haired wood-nymph of the Obion
Bottom.