THE FIRE ISLANDS. 95 



but blighted tree, all alone in the depths of the forest, 

 is one of the most lonely things in nature. As if it 

 were not enough that its green crown should wither 

 among its fellows, and its glory depart, it must stoop 

 from its proud, erect position, and lie prone on the 

 earth. Its great heart is at last broken, and it buries 

 its mighty forehead in the earth. A falling tree seems 

 always a conscious being to me. With these thoughts, 

 however, was mingled a little personal concern for 

 myself, and I began to measure rather anxiously the 

 distance between me and several old trees that the 

 wind seemed determined to rock out of their places. 

 I calculated with the nicest precision the exact length 

 of several that bowed towards me, in a salutation I 

 could have dispensed with, and the direction others 

 would probably take. No more fell, however, and at 

 one o'clock I turned my steps out of the forest. I had 

 seen and heard nothing during the day but the shaking- 

 trees and the fierce blast. Arrived at the place of 

 rendezvous, no one had seen a deer; but on one of 

 the stands two successive shots had been heard, and 

 the gentleman placed there had not come in. He 

 soon appeared, however, but bringing nothing with 

 him. He was a gentleman of rank in Europe, and 

 was equal to business plans that embraced a conti- 

 nent; but a deer could unnerve him. He had never 

 seen one of these noble animals, in all its wildness and 

 beauty, face to face, until this day. Sitting on the 

 bank, a beautiful doe had entered the stream before 

 him without seeing him, and there, at the distance of 

 five rods, stood for five minutes, looking with its wild 



