Eight or ten massive and dreary-looking
stacks of chimneys rose out of the smoking piles. In the centre of the
desolation was the stone basement of the block-house, on which still stood
a few gloomy masses of the timber, resembling coal. The naked and
unsupported shaft of the well reared its circular pillar from the centre,
looking like a dark monument of the past. The wide ruin of the
out-buildings blackened one side of the clearing, and, in different
places, the fences, like radii diverging from the common centre of
destruction, had led off the flames into the fields. A few domestic
animals ruminated in the back-ground, and even the feathered inhabitants
of the barns still kept aloof, as if warned by their instinct that danger
lurked around the site of their ancient abodes. In all other respects, the
view was calm, and lovely as ever. The sun shone from a sky in which no
cloud was visible. The blandness of the winds, and the brightness of the
heavens, lent an air of animation to even the leafless forest; and the
white vapor, that continued to rise from the smouldering piles, floated
high over the hills, as the peaceful smoke of the cottage curled above its
roof.
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