"
No more was said until they passed the settled part of the forest and
entered one of the many straight aisles of sky and sand among the pines,
which had been opened on the great furnace tract of Judge Custis. He had
here several thousand acres, and for miles the roadways were cleft
towards the horizon. The moon rose behind them as they entered the
furnace village, and they saw the lights twinkle through the open doors
of many cottages and the furnace flames dart over the forbidding
mill-pond, where in the depths grew the iron ore, like a vegetable
creation, and above the surface, on splayed and conical mud-washed
roots, the hundreds of strong cypresses towered from the water. Between
the steep banks of dark-colored pines, taller than the forest growth,
this furnace lake lay black and white and burning red as the shadows, or
moonrise, or flames struck upon it, and the stained water foamed through
the breast or dam where the ancient road crossed between pines,
cypresses and gum-trees of commanding stature.
Tawny, slimy, chilly, and solemn, the pond repeated the forms of the
groves it submerged; the shaggy shadows added depth and dread to the
effect; some strange birds hooted as they dipped their wings in the
surface, and, flying upward, seemed also sinking down. As Meshach felt
the chill of that pond he drew down his hat and buttoned up his coat.
"The earliest fools who turned up the bog ores for wealth," he said,
"released the miasmas which slew all the people roundabout.
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