Page:Early western travels, 1748-1846 (1907 Volume 29).djvu/219

 noise of the deep-tongued waves, in their unconfined flow, resembles that of the angry tempest, sweeping wild and free, like the spirit of liberty. Now the breaking waves play low upon the rock-ribbed beach, and madly plunge into an abyss—anon it returns foaming to its sedgy bed, apparently sporting with the sedges for diversion—falling from slope to slope, from cascade to cascade, passing in its course a long train of rapids—now concealing itself under the tufted foliage of cedar and pine—again pouring its brilliant and crystalline waters into a capacious basin, as if to take breath before quitting the ravine, and {140} finally precipitating its wandering course with renovated vigor.

From this almost impenetrable forest issues a harmonious sound. 'Tis the whistling or lowing of the noble stag, calling its companion. The moose, the most vigilant of animals, gives the signal of alarm. He has heard the crackling branch—he has inhaled the hunter's deadly breath; a confused noise is heard from the mountain; the sportsman raises his eager eye to its summit, and scans a flock of rein-deer perched upon the snow; they are startled at the approach of man; in an instant they are lost among the inaccessible pinnacles, the

"Palaces where Nature thrones Sublimity in icy halls."

We often catch a glimpse of the graceful forms and nimble feats of the roe-bucks, as they caper and gallop, or tarry an instant to look around, with their lancet ears distended to catch every sound; these wild, forest stragglers resume their course, and finally penetrate into the sombre forest. Flocks of wild goats gambol carelessly and tranquilly beside herds of mountain sheep above overhanging precipices and peaked rocks, chequered by patches of snow, far beyond the reach of human footsteps.