The dashing, flashing, little Garry, which I had followed for a day or two, thinned and narrowed down to a noisy brook as I ascended towards its source.

For a long distance the country was exceedingly wild and desolate.

Terrible must be the condition of a man benighted therein, especially in winter.

There were standing beacons all along the road for miles, to indicate the track when it was buried in drifting snow.

These were painted posts, about six or eight feet high, planted on the rocky, river side of the road, at a few rods interval, to guide the traveller and keep him from dashing over the concealed precipices.