and heavily one dark green sea. Then, on all the other
skirts of the forest itself, the lofty trees are covered to their
summits by the yellow jessamine, and other quick-growing creepers,
breathing odour, and alive with the chirping of insects and the melody
of birds. In the open and less marshy skirts of the vast forest,
gigantic tulip-trees shoot up their massy and regular-built trunks,
straight and pillar-like, until they put forth their broad arms
covered with the magnificent foliage of their glossy deep green
leaves, interspersed with superb white and yellow tulip-shaped
flowers. Under their shade are sheltered, like shrubs, trees which
elsewhere would be the pride of the forest, or the park--the stately
gum-tree, and the magnolia, with its broad shining leaves and
beautiful white flowers; whilst at their feet you force your way
through tangles of the honeysuckle, or thickets of the moisture-loving
bay, rich with its large rose-coloured clusters. But, the moment you
penetrate beyond the sun's cheering influence into the deeper recesses
of the swamp itself, how solemn is the change! There, the cypress and
the juniper, rising without a branch to interrupt the regularity of
their tall trunks for a hundred feet, stand thick and close together,
like so many tall columns reared to support the roof of a vast temple.
All is silent as the grave. Not an insect buzzes or chirps about you;
no cry or song of bird or beast is heard. You seem to have penetrated
beyond the bounds not only of human society and existence but of
animal life, and to be passing through the still and dark valley of
the shadow of death.

As the traveller pushes his doubtful way along, he will come upon some
broad, lake-like sheet of water, still, silent, and sluggish, calmly
reflecting the quiet solemnity of the forest. I say still and silent,
but these little lakes are visited at certain seasons of the year by
myriads of wild fowl, the clapping of whose wings, as they rise from
the water, may be heard to a great distance. The water of all those
lakes is of the same colour as the roots and bark of the juniper and
cedar-trees, from which it receives its hue. And, when the sun flashes
on the amber-coloured lake, and the cypress forest throws its gloomy
shade over its face, the traveller becomes thrilled with awe and
astonishment. He fancies that he has never seen any spot so fitted to
be the residence of spirits of a malignant influence, and expects to
se