FEBRUARY. 61 



ere its close, and we have known the winds lift up 

 their voices this month with all their triumphant and 

 sonorous energy. Nothing can perhaps illustrate so 

 livingly our idea of a spirit, as a mighty wind 

 present in its amazing power and sublimity, yet 

 seen only in its effects. We are whirled along with 

 its careering torrent with irresistible power; we 

 are driven before it, as Miss Mitford says, as by a 

 steam-engine. How it comes rushing and roaring 

 over the house, like the billows of a mighty ocean ! 

 Then for the banging of doors, the screaming and 

 creaking of signs, the clatter of falling shutters in 

 the street ! Then for the crash of chimneys, the 

 down-topling of crazy gables, the showering of tiles 

 upon the pavement, as if the bomb-shells of a be- 

 sieging army were demolishing the roofs, and ren- 

 dering it even death to walk the streets ! Then for 

 a scene of awful grandeur upon the glorious ocean ! 

 That which, but an hour before, was calm and sun- 

 bright, a variety of vessels lying at anchor, or 

 sailing to and fro in serene beauty, then is a scene 

 of sublime and chaotic uproar ! the waves rolling 

 and foaming, and dashing their spray over rocks, 

 pier-heads, houses, and even over the loftiest towers 

 and churches too, as I have seen it, to an amazing 

 extent, till the water ran down the walls like rain, 

 and the windows, at a great distance from the 

 beach, were covered with a salt incrustation the 

 vessels meanwhile labouring amidst the riotous bil- 

 lows as for life, and tugging at their cables as if 

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