94 LETTERS FROM THE BACKWOODS. 



The call of the master brought the hounds in full 

 chase after us, and we rode over to the hunters' ren- 

 dezvous, and were soon in the woods. The common 

 way of hunting the deer on Long Island is to start 

 several packs of hounds in different directions, and 

 then station men along a stream near, in places where 

 the deer are found by experience generally to come 

 when they take to the water to throw the dogs off the 

 scent. I was placed in the heart of the forest, on a 

 good point of observation, beside the stream whose 

 current swept the shrubs and flag's that almost buried 

 it from sight. Standing on a board to keep my feet 

 dry, I turned to the sun to get the full benefit of his 

 beams, for I was well-nigh frozen. Here I stood, hour 

 after hour, wath naught but the roaring of the blast 

 through the pine-trees overhead to break the solitude 

 of the scene. Scathed and blighted trunks threw out 

 their long withered arms, and swayed them about as 

 if reaching blindly after something in the air, and 

 groaned on their aged roots; while the tufted tips of 

 the pine and hemlock bowed and sprung as if curt- 

 seying to the Avind. The deep cry of the hounds, as 

 they opened on the track, had soon died away on the 

 blast, and I had nothing to do but stand and watch 

 the forest as the swaying tree-tops traced all kinds of 

 diagrams on the sky. Suddenly, one tall pine-tree 

 seemed to swing to a passing gust as if its founda- 

 tions were yielding ; then, sallying back as if to col- 

 lect its energies 'for the terrible leap before it, it 

 stretched heavily forward, and came, with a crash that 

 shook the banks, to the ground. The fall of a lordly 



