o thick and dark, that it was quite as
possible we should find our way into the marsh as over the Mussel
shoals.{B} So certain was I, however, of the proximity of the latter,
that I pushed on, expecting each moment to find the ferry, until the
unlucky Yankee brought all my hopes to a termination.

It was now quite night--one of those dreary pitch-dark nights that are
of no unfrequent occurrence in the south-western states. I would as soon
have been on the banks of Newfoundland as in this swamp, from which
nothing was more probable than that we should carry away a rattling
fever. The Yankee's directions concerning the road were, as may be
supposed, long since forgotten; and even had they not been so, it would
have required cat's eyes to have availed ourselves of them. Even the
owls, the nightingales of that neighbourhood, seemed puzzled by the
extreme darkness. We could hear them whooping and screaming all around
us; and now and then one flew against us, as if it had lost its way as
well as ourselves. The road we were now following ran close to the bank
of the river; so close, indeed, that a single stumble of our horse might
have precipitated us into the water, which was then very high.

"I think we should do our best to get out of the gig," said I to my
companion; "or else we have a very good chance of passing the night in
the Tennessee."

"No danger," replied Richards, "Caesar is an old Virginian."

A shock that made our very ribs crack again, and as nearly as possible
threw us backwards out of the gig, came rather opportunely to interrupt
this eulogium on Caesar, who had suddenly reared furiously up on his
hind-legs.

"There must be something in the path," cried Richards. "Let us see what
it is."

We got out, and found a huge walnut-tree lying right across the road.
Here was an end to our journey. It was an absolute impossibility to get
the gig over the enormous trunk; the boughs, which spread out full
twenty yards in every direction, had given Caesar timely warning of the
impediment to our further progress. The road, moreover, was so narrow
that it was impossible to turn. There was nothing for it but to back
out. Richards began hunting about for a cross-road, where we might turn;
I set to work to back the gig. I had no sooner, however, set one foot
out of the road, than my cloak was almost torn from my shoulders by a
thorn half a yard long. To get through this detestable wilderness with a
whole skin, one ought