W WINTER-PINE FOREST, U. C. E HAVE now before us the last of the four scenes, which may be called historic pictures, of the native woodland year. The more distant and still retiring sun no longer vivifies the vegetable world. The last leaf of Autumn has wavered to the ground. The frosty breath of Winter has withered every blade of grass, and a thin covering of snow has been driven, like a winding-sheet, over the landscape. The late brawling brook is still struggling with its icy fetters, and though, at intervals smothered and hushed down, yet occasionally it breaks away from beneath its crystal covering and hurries on in a deep dark current. The cold grey mist, prevalent at this season, and contrasting so strongly with the glowing tints of Autumn, is peculiarly obvious in the gloomy forests of pine; gloomy at all times, and where the straight shafts of trees frequently tower to the height of near two hundred feet. The sketch was made in Upper Canada, but the scene is particularly characteristic of parts of the disputed territory, claimed by New Brunswick and the State of Maine; it is composed of a mixed growth of hard timber, that is to say, deciduous trees, and white, or soft, pine. The two trees on the margin of the marsh are commonly called buckwheat pines, from the branching out of their limbs like the stems of buckwheat. They seldom attain any great height, but make up the deficiency in breadth-I have seen one growing in Canada, said to measure forty-two feet in circumference. The log bridge over the frozen stream has not been passed since the fall of snow; the impeded travellers have therefore to clear the way. The party in the sleigh is supposed to be on an expedition to visit some wild lands in the west, probably at the distance of five hundred miles or more. They have had letters, from time to time, from some near relation, or former intimate, who started from home poor, but has become wealthy by the cultivation of the wilderness and the increasing value of lands. These letters have set forth to them the boundless fertility of the soil-the immeasurable resources of the country the present cheapness of land; but the undoubted rise in value that must take place, when certain roads are opened, villages built, and court-houses erected; and have urged them to lose no time in grasping the golden opportunity. It is evident the party is only going to reconnoitre, otherwise they would have a train of sleighs, filled with kitchen utensils, spinning wheels, and household furniture. They are not needy people, seeking a mere living, but persons "well to do" in the world; yet, like most Americans, ready to move to better their condition. Their easy circumstances may be seen in their comfortable outfit. The buffalo robe, trimmed with red, and thrown over the back of the sleigh-the well-conditioned horses-the blackened harness, fringed with a full complement of jingling bells, without which music the wintery journey would prove oppressively silent. The man who is chopping is evidently a hired hand, for in throwing off his coat he exposes the red flannel working shirt. They have started with the first snow, that they may be enabled to accomplish their long journey, to remain a week or two with their friends, and to return before the breaking up of sleighing. We will leave this conjectural topic, to describe the pitch-pine forests in the state of Georgia, and to give an idea of their vastness, the description shall be that of a friend, who, forty years since, journeyed by land from New-Orleans to New-York. He provided himself with a stout saddle-horse, capable of enduring a long journey, and at the last house, before entering this ocean wilderness, he rested a day to recruit. The following morning, with three days' provisions for himself, and provender for his horse, he entered the woods. His day's journey was solitary, and often perplexed (the woods are monstrous in aspect), with crossing and diverging tracts for roads they could not be called. He had been instructed how to ascertain his route, by guide marks notched in the trees, yet, after all, he had often to trust to chance. Night closed upon him after a conjectural day's journey of sixty miles. He now halted, gave his wearied horse his oats, and prepared for the night's "bivouac." Collecting a number of pitch-pine knots, which remain sound long after the trunk has decayed, and some dry splinters of wood, under which he snapped his pistols, speedily obtained a blazing fire, and having made his evening meal, stretched him before it for the night, safe from all molestation from wild beasts. His horse never wandered out of sight though the herbage around was soon cropped, seeming conscious of the protecting influence of the fire. About midnight he was awakened by the howling of a pack of wolves, when he found his horse standing almost over him. He renewed the fire, and without the least fear slept till morning. With the earliest dawn he resumed his journey, and late in the afternoon reached the solitary abode of a collector of the resinous gum of the pine trees. This gum is collected in troughs, or boxes, cut in the trunk of the tree to receive it as it oozes out of the wounded sapwood; and from this turpentine and rosin are made. The abode of the collector was a mere log hut reared and finished by his own hands; it contained a few chairs and a table, together with two bedsteads, made of rough saplings, stripped of their bark: the bottoms of these were interwoven strips of the inner fibrous covering of the basswood tree, and in lieu of feather beds, there were sacks filled with the husks of Indian corn. In a corner of the cabin, lay a quantity of wild pork, salted, with some wild pigeons, which had been shot; and hard by was a barrel of meal. In this log hut the traveller passed the night, and by the middle of next day reached the settlements. Near the whole extent of the country traversed, consisted of one universal pine forest, from which is obtained the celebrated Georgia pine. It may emphatically be called a "vast wilderness-a boundless contiguity of shade." |