58 JOCK'S I.AKK 



outlet, where we left our boat and scrambled down over 

 rocks and fallen trees, near the rapid stream. In "flu- My" 

 (vlei?) a broad, shallow, marshy pond, half overgrown 

 with lily-pads where deer love to teed. \Ve uathered 

 winteruTcens on our way, and pitcher plants by the shore. 

 lickcd up a feather from an eagle's wing.- that was about 

 Jill but heartily enjoyed the sunshine ami shade and the 

 weird stillness. 



The forest lias its sounds, even on the quietest of days. 

 the -IJLrht rustle of the aspen leaves, perhap . tliel.' 

 note of the wood bird tlittinu- through the shade, tin- 

 startled chirrup of the chipmunk, the scream of a: 

 soaring hiirh above the tree-, --the bu/./iim 1 of rlies in the 

 sunshine. luit the total impression is of a stillness almost 

 appalling. Hut there come days in the woods. ;m d c-peciall\ 

 nights, when nature becomes restive and wakens from this 

 sleep of her forces. The air so soft and gentle become- 

 nervously len^e and si mm: a- the muscles of a rudely 

 awakened giant. It stretches out its inxisible arm- and 

 s\\iiii!-and sways them until the wild, rushing sounds roar 

 through the trees; dashes upon the placid waters, and the 

 waves run to and fro as in fear or in madness; sweeps ; md 

 plunges down through the mountain passes, and the mourn- 

 ful wail of the -tartled recesses rises in a passionate prayer 

 tor peace again: sei/es Hie moiiarchs ot the fore-t and 

 wres'tles and strives with them until they vroMii in the 

 mad grasp of a power that cannot be grasped ai:ain. for ii 

 is the intangible power of the air. And then, the storms! 

 the wild carnival of the lightnings, the horrid bellow and 



