AT NATURAL BRIDGE 257 



of the bole, but of the limbs, seeming to leap 

 from one to another, even when they were 

 ten feet apart. It must have been of the 

 tree's age, I suppose, and had grown with 

 its growth. In the shadow of these giants, 

 yet not overshadowed by them, were flower- 

 ing dogwoods and redbuds. It is a pretty 

 habit these two have of growing side by 

 side, as if they knew the value of contrasted 

 colors. 



At a point on the edge of the grove I 

 turned to enjoy the prospect southward: 

 mountains everywhere, with the more pointed 

 of the twin Peaks of Otter showing between 

 two oaks that barely gave it room ; all the 

 mountains radiantly beautiful, with cloud 

 shadows flecking their wooded slopes. Not 

 a house was in sight ; but in one place be- 

 yond the middle-diptance hills a thin blue 

 smoke was rising. There, doubtless, lay the 

 valley of the James. Just before me, on 

 the left of the open field, stood a peculiarly 

 graceful dogwood, all in a glory of white, 

 one fan-shaped branch above another, a 

 miracle of loveliness. The eye that saw it 

 was satisfied with seeing. Beyond it a chat 

 played the clown (knowing no better, even 



