I thought she was killed. I
have seen a man before now killed by a blow from a horse's head in
the like manner." As soon as we could, we resumed our places in the
sleigh; but all enjoyment of our journey, had it been otherwise
possible, was gone.
When we reached Peterborough, Moodie wished us to remain at the inn
all night, as we had still eleven miles of our journey to perform,
and that through a blazed forest-road, little travelled, and very
much impeded by fallen trees and other obstacles; but D - - was
anxious to get back as soon as possible to his own home, and he
urged us very pathetically to proceed.
The moon arose during our stay at the inn, and gleamed upon the
straggling frame-houses which then formed the now populous and
thriving town of Peterborough. We crossed the wild, rushing,
beautiful Otonabee river by a rude bridge, and soon found ourselves
journeying over the plains or level heights beyond the village,
which were thinly wooded with picturesque groups of oak and pine,
and very much resembled a gentleman's park at home.
Far below, to our right (for we were upon the Smith-town side) we
heard the rushing of the river, whose rapid waters never receive
curb from the iron chain of winter. Even while the rocky banks are
coated with ice, and the frost-king suspends from every twig and
branch the most beautiful and fantastic crystals, the black waters
rush foaming along, a thick steam rising constantly above the
rapids, as from a boiling pot. The shores vibrate and tremble
beneath the force of the impetuous flood, as it whirls round
cedar-crowned islands and opposing rocks, and hurries on to pour its
tribute into the Rice Lake, to swell the calm, majestic grandeur of
the Trent, till its waters are lost in the beautiful bay of Quinte,
and finally merged in the blue ocean of Ontario.
The most renowned of our English rivers dwindle into little muddy
rills when compared with the sublimity of the Canadian waters. No
language can adequately express the solemn grandeur of her lake and
river scenery; the glorious islands that float, like visions from
fairy land, upon the bosom of these azure mirrors of her cloudless
skies. No dreary breadth of marshes, covered with flags, hide from
our gaze the expanse of heaven-tinted waters; no foul mud-banks
spread their unwholesome exhalations around. The rocky shores are
crowned with the cedar, the birch, the alder, and soft maple, that
dip their long tresses in the pure stream; from every crevice in the
limestone the hare-bell and Canadian rose wave their graceful
blossoms.
The fiercest droughts of summer may diminish the volume and power
of these romantic streams, but it never leaves their rocky channels
bare, nor checks the mournful music of their dancing waves.
