ow like some pictured
allegory of life, in which objects were arrayed in their harshest but
truest colors, and without the relief of any shadowing.

The solitary and arid blades of grass arose from the passing gusts
fearfully perceptible; the bold and rocky mountains were too distinct in
their barrenness, and the eye even sought relief, in vain, by attempting
to pierce the illimitable void of heaven, which was shut to its gaze by
the dusky sheet of ragged and driving vapor.

The wind blew unequally; sometimes sweeping heavily along the ground,
seeming to whisper its moanings in the cold ears of the dead, then
rising in a shrill and mournful whistling, it entered the forest with
a rush that filled the air with the leaves and branches it scattered in
its path. Amid the unnatural shower, a few hungry ravens struggled with
the gale; but no sooner was the green ocean of woods which stretched
beneath them, passed, than they gladly stopped, at random, to their
hideous banquet.

In short, it was a scene of wildness and desolation; and it appeared as
if all who had profanely entered it had been stricken, at a blow, by
the relentless arm of death. But the prohibition had ceased; and for the
first time since the perpetrators of those foul deeds which had assisted
to disfigure the scene were gone, living human beings had now presumed
to approach the place.

About an hour before the setting of the sun, on the day already
mentioned, the forms of five men might have been seen issuing from the
narrow vista of trees, where the path to the Hudson entered the forest,
and advancing in the direction of the ruined works. At first their
progress was slow and guarded, as though they entered with reluctance
amid the horrors of the post, or dreaded the renewal of its frightful
incidents. A light figure preceded the rest of the party, with
the caution and activity of a native; ascending every hillock to
reconnoiter, and indicating by gestures, to his companions, the route he
deemed it most prudent to pursue. Nor were those in the rear wanting in
every caution and foresight known to forest warfare. One among them, he
also was an Indian, moved a little on one flank, and watched the margin
of the woods, with eyes long accustomed to read the smallest sign
of danger. The remaining three were white, though clad in vestments
adapted, both in quality and color, to their present hazardous
pursuit--that of hanging on the skirts of a retiring army in th