I wish, too, that the great
company of story-tellers would let scenery rest in peace. The charm of a
landscape is entireness, unity; it strikes the eye at once and as a whole.
Examination of the component parts is quite a different thing. Who ean
build up a view in his mind by piling up details like bricks upon one
another? Most people, I suspect, will find, as I do, that, no matter what
author they may be reading, the same picture always presents itself. A
vague outline of some view they have seen arises in the memory,--like the
forest scene in a scantily furnished theatre, which comes on for every
play. The naked woods, trees, rocks, lake, river, mountain, would have done
the business just as well, and saved a deal of writing and of printing. The
most successful artist in this line I know of is Michael Scott, whose
tropical sketches in 'Tom Cringle's Log' are unequalled by any
landscape-painter, past or present, who uses pen and ink instead of canvas
and colors."
My trance was broken by the voice of the brakeman shouting, "Thunderkill,"
into the car, as the train drew up at a wooden station-house. Jumping out,
I asked the way to General Van Bummel's. A man with a whip in his hand
offered his services as guide and common carrier. I determined to
experience a new sensation,--for once in my life to anathematize
expenditure, and charge it to the office. So, climbing into a kind of
leathern tent upon wheels, I was soon on my way to the leaguer of the
General.
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