28. TRAIL-LIKE ROAD FOR WHITE MAN

The trail‘ became a winding road,

Leading past the Indian village,

For man and beast with heavy load

Toiling through the gloomy forest.

In the year of seventeen hundred

Seventy-two was built a road-way,

First of all the winding road-ways,

Past the cabins on the hill-side,

Trail-like road for white man travel.

Nailed across the cabin windows

Were the skins of coons and foxes,

Hides of catamounts and beaver.

Through these shaggy window curtains,

Where small holes were burned for day-light,

Dimly lighting up the cabins,

Nightly shone the crackling fire-light

From the wood-fire in the fire-place,

Cheerful signs of habitation

To belated trav'lers toiling

On the road beside the river

‘ Neath old Ragged Mountain's shadow,

Thus the trav'lers tell the story

In their books about the Light House.