Page:The last of the Mohicans (1826 Volume 2).djvu/154

 been fattened with human blood. The whole landscape, which, seen by a favouring light and in a genial temperature, had been found so lovely, appeared now like some pictured allegory of life, in which the objects were arrayed in their harshest but truest colours, and without the relief of any shadowing.

The solitary and arid blades of grass arose from the passing gusts fearfully perceptible; the bold and rocky mountains were too distinct in their barrenness, and the eye even sought relief in vain by attempting to pierce the illimitable void of heaven, which was shut to its gaze by the dusky sheet of ragged and driving vapour.

The wind blew unequally, sometimes sweeping heavily along the ground, seeming to whisper its moanings in the cold ears of the dead, then rising in a shrill and mournful whistling, it entered the forest with a rush that filled the air with the leaves and branches it scattered in its path. Amid the unnatural shower a few hungry ravens struggled with the gale; but no sooner was the green ocean of woods which stretched