It was with some difficulty I forced my way
through the chaparel (thicket), which was rendered almost impenetrable
by thorns, Virginia creepers, honeysuckles, and sweet-briars, that had
spread in the wildest profusion. The windows, doors, mantle-pieces,
bannisters, and every portable thing had been removed from the house
by the blacks, who had squatted in the neighbourhood; even the
chimneys had been taken down for the bricks. The swallows were the
sole tenants; the barn had fallen a prey to decay and storms, and the
roof lay comparatively uninjured at some distance on the ground. A
pair of glistening eyes, peeping through a broken board at the end,
showed me that the foxes had appropriated it to their own use. The
horse-stable, coach-house, and other buildings were in a similar state
of dilapidation.
"I returned to the camp, and learned that Mrs Dechamps was reposing in
peace in the village church-yard, the children had been sent to
England to their relatives, and the captain was residing in California
with his daughter and Tom Hodges, who were the richest people in St
Francisco."
"What a sad picture!" said the doctor.
"Well, it's true though," said I, "ain't it?"
"I never was at Cucumber Lake," said he, smiling, "but I have known
several similar failures. The truth is, Mr Slick, though I needn't
tell you, for you know better than I do, our friend Steele began at
the right and Dechamps at the wrong end.
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