on October 12. 1831. 105 



of the paling. It then traversed the park in a varying sweep 

 of about 150 yards' breadth. It is difficult to form any idea 

 of the manner in which it took its course, as it has made 

 many singular selections of spots and single trees. The line 

 of desolation is not an uninterrupted one: in many places, a 

 large breadth of trees has escaped unhurt, while others, ap- 

 parently sheltered by them, have been shivered or torn up by 

 the roots. In some groups of three or four trees, one of the 

 least exposed has shared in the ruin, while its more exposed 

 neighbours have not lost a leaf. On entering the park at the 

 Lion's Lodge, on the west or Warley side, the eye is imme- 

 diately attracted to the right hand by several oaks, 60 feet 

 long, which have been torn up by the roots, and to which are 

 adhering masses of earth, 14 feet in length, and from three to 

 four feet in thickness. A beautiful beech has been partly 

 removed from the soil by the uptearing of neighbouring trees, 

 and its lofty top rests on others, at an angle of about 30 

 degrees. The stems of many trees are off within a few feet 

 from the earth, some at a height of two or three feet, others 

 at a greater height; and one elm has been severed at about 

 20 feet from the ground, 15 feet of the stump having had half 

 its body torn away. In one place, about 1 00 yards from this 

 spot, the destruction has been tremendous. In a circle of 

 nearly 40 yards' diameter, whole trunks, huge limbs and 

 branches, with immense masses of earth, lie on the ground in 

 wild confusion, mingled in such a manner that it is impossible 

 to count the number of trees destroyed. It appears as if a 

 battery of heavy artillery had been directed against a great 

 mass of timber, which had crowded that part of the park. 

 In some instances the stems exhibit to the eye the appearance 

 of having been cut off; in others, they are rent from top to 

 bottom, or have had their giant limbs twisted off, as if they 

 had been but so many twigs. Lofty oaks have been struck 

 near their summits, and immense portions of their upper 

 limbs and branches torn down, but are not quite severed from 

 their parent stem, and, with their heads resting on the ground, 

 form a sort of tent of foliage upwards of 30 feet high. The 

 hurricane spared neither the lofty nor the lowly, neither the 

 mighty oak nor the humble holly : the strong and the weak 

 alike fell before the blast; and stripling trees, which one might 

 have supposed would have escaped, shared the same fate with 

 the monarchs of the park. Several oaks had at least a dozen 

 immense branches torn off, while the majestic trunk has not 

 lost a foot of its height, and in many instances the limbs and 

 branches of standing trees are twisted and interlaced in a 

 variety of fantastic shapes, and, whichever way the spectator 



