Near the center of the state of New York lies an extensive district... (ch 1, 13)...the Indian agent of New York had a log dwelling at the foot of the lake…...the war drove off the agent…and his rude dwelling was soon abandoned. The author remembers it a few years later, reduced to the humble office of a smokehouse…the smokehouse was the first ruin…that the author ever beheld…(Introduction, vi)-The Pioneers, James Fenimore Cooper (pub 1823).
I remember that, in crossing one of the woodland districts which still cover the State of New York, I reached the shores of a lake embosomed in forests coeval with the world....Upon the shores of the lake...An indian shallop was hauled up on the sand…I soon perceived that a European had undoubtedly been led to seek a refuge in this retreat…in the midst of these shrubs a few stones were to be seen, blackened with fire and sprinkled with thin ashes; here the hearth had no doubt been…when I was obliged to leave that enchanting solitude, I exclaimed with melancholy, “Are ruins then, already here?” -Democracy in America, Alexis de Tocqueville (pub 1835), 343.
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At the extreme borders of the Confederate States [the United States, not the Confederacy to come], upon the confines of society and of the wilderness, a population of bold adventurers have taken up their abode, who pierce the solitudes of the American woods…As soon as the pioneer arrives…he fells a few trees and builds a loghouse…The traveler who approaches one of them towards nightfall sees the flicker of the hearth-flame through the chinks in the walls...-Tocqueville, 368.
"...when I first entered the hills...I mounted a tree and sat for an hour looking on the silent wilderness. Not an opening was to be seen in the boundless forest, except where the lake lay, like a mirror of glass...not the vestige of a man could I trace...from my elevated observatory. No clearing, no hut...nothing but mountains...and the valley, with its surface of branches...Even the Susquehanna was then hid, by the height and density of the forest."-Cooper, 224-5.
A small island, covered with woods whose thick foliage concealed its banks… no object attested the presence of man except a column of smoke...Tocqueville, 343.
"...I left my perch and descended the mountain...A window had been opened through the trees from thence to the lake...I had just finished my repast as I saw a smoke curling from under the mountain, near the eastern bank of the lake. It was the only indication of the vicinity of man that I had seen...I made my way to the spot and found a rough cabin of logs..."-Cooper, 225.
I remember that, in crossing one of the woodland districts which still cover the State of New York, I reached the shores of a lake embosomed in forests coeval with the world....Upon the shores of the lake...An indian shallop was hauled up on the sand…I soon perceived that a European had undoubtedly been led to seek a refuge in this retreat…in the midst of these shrubs a few stones were to be seen, blackened with fire and sprinkled with thin ashes; here the hearth had no doubt been…when I was obliged to leave that enchanting solitude, I exclaimed with melancholy, “Are ruins then, already here?” -Democracy in America, Alexis de Tocqueville (pub 1835), 343.
...
At the extreme borders of the Confederate States [the United States, not the Confederacy to come], upon the confines of society and of the wilderness, a population of bold adventurers have taken up their abode, who pierce the solitudes of the American woods…As soon as the pioneer arrives…he fells a few trees and builds a loghouse…The traveler who approaches one of them towards nightfall sees the flicker of the hearth-flame through the chinks in the walls...-Tocqueville, 368.
"...when I first entered the hills...I mounted a tree and sat for an hour looking on the silent wilderness. Not an opening was to be seen in the boundless forest, except where the lake lay, like a mirror of glass...not the vestige of a man could I trace...from my elevated observatory. No clearing, no hut...nothing but mountains...and the valley, with its surface of branches...Even the Susquehanna was then hid, by the height and density of the forest."-Cooper, 224-5.
"...I left my perch and descended the mountain...A window had been opened through the trees from thence to the lake...I had just finished my repast as I saw a smoke curling from under the mountain, near the eastern bank of the lake. It was the only indication of the vicinity of man that I had seen...I made my way to the spot and found a rough cabin of logs..."-Cooper, 225.
