150 THE JONATHAN PAPERS 



thick hazel and scrub oak; then down a slope, 

 and we were in the hemlock ravine a won 

 derful bit of tall woods, dark-shadowed, sol 

 emn, hardly changed by the rain, only per 

 haps a thought darker and stiller, with deeper 

 blue depths of hazy distance between the 

 straight black trunks. At the bottom a brook 

 with dark pools lying beneath mossy rock 

 ledges, or swirling under great hemlock roots, 

 little waterfalls, and shallow rapids over 

 smooth-worn rock faces. It is a wonderful 

 place, a place for a German fairy tale. 



The woods were empty in a sense, yes. 

 Except for the lizards, the animals run to 

 cover during the rain; woodchucks, rabbits, 

 squirrels, are tucked away somewhere out of 

 sight and sound. Bird notes are hushed; the 

 birds, lurking close-reefed under the lee of 

 the big branches or the heavy foliage, or at 

 the heart of the cedar trees, make no sign as 

 we pass. 



Empty, yet not lonely. When the sun is 

 out and the sky is high and bright, one feels 

 that the world is a large place, belonging to 

 many creatures. But when the sky shuts down 

 and the world is close-wrapped in rain and 



