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regularity. The widest portion was within eighty yards of the southern extreme. The slopes which
encompassed the vale could not fairly be called hills, unless at their northern face. Here a precipitous ledge of
granite arose to a height of some ninety feet; and, as I have mentioned, the valley at this point was not more
than fifty feet wide; but as the visitor proceeded southwardly from this cliff, he found on his right hand and
on his left, declivities at once less high, less precipitous, and less rocky. All, in a word, sloped and softened to
the south; and yet the whole vale was engirdled by eminences, more or less high, except at two points. One of
these I have already spoken of. It lay considerably to the north of west, and was where the setting sun made
its way, as I have before described, into the amphitheatre, through a cleanly-cut natural cleft in the granite
embankment; this fissure might have been ten yards wide at its widest point, so far as the eye could trace it. It
seemed to lead up, up like a natural causeway, into the recesses of unexplored mountains and forests. The
other opening was directly at the southern end of the vale. Here, generally, the slopes were nothing more than
gentle inclinations, extending from east to west about one hundred and fifty yards. In the middle of this extent
was a depression, level with the ordinary floor of the valley. As regards vegetation, as well as in respect to
everything else, the scene softened and sloped to the south. To the north--on the craggy precipice--a few
paces from the verge--upsprang the magnificent trunks of numerous hickories, black walnuts, and chestnuts,
interspersed with occasional oak; and the strong lateral branches thrown out by the walnuts especially, spread
far over the edge of the cliff. Proceeding southwardly, the explorer saw, at first, the same class of trees, but
less and less lofty and Salvatorish in character; then he saw the gentler elm, succeeded by the sassafras and
locust--these again by the softer linden, red-bud, catalpa, and maple--these yet again by still more graceful
and modest varieties. The whole face of the southern declivity was covered with wild shrubbery alone--an
occasional silver willow or white poplar excepted. In the bottom of the valley itself--(for it must be borne in
mind that the vegetation hitherto mentioned grew only on the cliffs or hill-sides)--were to be seen three
insulated trees. One was an elm of fine size and exquisite form: it stood guard over the southern gate of the
vale. Another was a hickory, much larger than the elm, and altogether a much finer tree, although both were
exceedingly beautiful: it seemed to have taken charge of the north-western entrance, springing from a group
of rocks in the very jaws of the ravine, and throwing its graceful body, at an angle of nearly forty-five
degrees, far out into the sunshine of the amphitheatre. About thirty yards east of this tree stood, however, the
The Black Cat and Other Stories 46
The Black Cat and Other Stories
pride of the valley, and beyond all question the most magnificent tree I have ever seen, unless, perhaps,
among the cypresses of the Itchiatuckanee. It was a triple-stemmed tulip tree--the Liriodendron
Tulipiferum--one of the natural order of magnolias. Its three trunks separated from the parent at about three
feet from the soil, and diverging very slightly and gradually, were not more than four feet apart at the point
where the largest stem shot out into foliage: this was at an elevation of about eighty feet. The whole height of
the principal division was one hundred and twenty feet. Nothing can surpass in beauty the form, or the glossy,
vivid green of the leaves of the tulip tree. In the present instance they were fully eight inches wide; but their
glory was altogether eclipsed by the gorgeous splendour of the profuse blossoms. Conceive, closely
congregated, a million of the largest and most resplendent tulips! Only thus can the reader get any idea of the
picture I would convey. And then the stately grace of the clean, delicately-granulated columnar stems, the
largest four feet in diameter, at twenty from the ground. The innumerable blossoms, mingling with those of
other trees scarcely less beautiful, although infinitely less majestic, filled the valley with more than Arabian
perfumes.
The general floor of the amphitheatre was grass of the same character as that I had found in the road: if
anything, more deliciously soft, thick, velvety, and miraculously green. It was hard to conceive how all this
beauty had been attained.
I have spoken of the two openings into the vale. From the one to the north-west issued a rivulet, which came,
gently murmuring and slightly foaming, down the ravine, until it dashed against the group of rocks out of
which sprang the insulated hickory. Here, after encircling the tree, it passed on a little to the north of east,
leaving the tulip tree some twenty feet to the south, and making no decided alteration in its course until it
came near the midway between the eastern and western boundaries of the valley. At this point, after a series
of sweeps, it turned off at right angles and pursued a generally southern direction--meandering as it
went--until it became lost in a small lake of irregular figure (although roughly oval), that lay gleaming near
the lower extremity of the vale. This lakelet was, perhaps, a hundred yards in diameter at its widest part. No
crystal could be clearer than its water. Its bottom, which could be distinctly seen, consisted altogether of
pebbles brilliantly white. Its banks, of the emerald grass already described, rounded, rather than sloped, off
into the clear heaven below; and so clear was this heaven, so perfectly, at times, did it reflect all objects
above it, that where the true bank ended and where the mimic one commenced, it was a point of no little
difficulty to determine. The trout, and some other varieties of fish, with which this pond seemed to be almost
inconveniently crowded, had all the appearance of veritably flying-fish. It was almost impossible to believe
that they were not absolutely suspended in the air. A light birch canoe that lay placidly on the water, was
reflected in its minutest fibres with a fidelity unsurpassed by the most exquisitely polished mirror. A small
island, fairly laughing with flowers in full bloom, and affording little more space than just enough for a
picturesque little building, seemingly a fowl-house--arose from the lake not far from its northern shore--to
which it was connected by means of an inconceivably light-looking and yet very primitive bridge. It was
formed of a single, broad and thick plank of the tulip wood. This was forty feet long, and spanned the interval
between shore and shore with a slight but very perceptible arch, preventing all oscillation. From the southern
extreme of the lake issued a continuation of the rivulet, which, after meandering for, perhaps, thirty yards,
finally passed through the 'depression' (already described) in the middle of the southern declivity, and
tumbling down a sheer precipice of a hundred feet, made its devious and unnoticed way to the Hudson.
The lake was deep--at some points thirty feet--but the rivulet seldom exceeded three, while its greatest
width was about eight. Its bottom and banks were as those of the pond--if a defect could have been
attributed to them, in point of picturesqueness, it was that of excessive neatness.
The expanse of the green turf was relieved, here and there, by an occasional showy shrub, such as the
hydrangea, or the common snow-ball, or the aromatic seringa; or, more frequently, by a clump of geraniums
blossoming gorgeously in great varieties. These latter grew in pots which were carefully buried in the soil, so
as to give the plants the appearance of being indigenous. Besides all this, the lawn's velvet was exquisitely
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The Black Cat and Other Stories
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