6 2 March Floods. 



come rivers ; the rivers spread themselves over the 

 plain, and carry ruin to a thousand homesteads. There 

 was something ominous in the excessive mildness of the 

 temperature when we awoke one morning in March. 

 The snow lay deep upon the earth, but the air was 

 warm and enervating. Already the tiny stream in the 

 Val Ste. Veronique had increased in volume, and before 

 nightfall it roared angrily, its turbid waters confined 

 between steep banks, carrying logs of wood that had 

 been purposely laid along its sides, and other burdens 

 that had not been so intentionally confided to its care. 

 Most of the little wooden bridges are removed in a flood 

 of this kind, the earth is washed away from the roots of 

 the trees, and many an alder falls. 



With the thaw came a deluge of rain, and the tor- 

 rents roared in all the glens. We who were at the head 

 of the waters began to expect evil tidings from the 

 plains. Every drop that now fell on the soaked earth 

 of the forest must find its way ultimately to the Loire. 

 Fortunately the hills were richly clothed with wood, 

 which retards the departure of the rainfall, and converts 

 what would be a sudden crisis of devastation into the 

 endurable floods of twelve or twenty days. And still 

 the waters descended rapidly enough to give ample 

 reason for anxiety. We in our hills were safe, and the 

 buildings in our valley had been so arranged by the 

 foresight of the monks who first erected them as to be 

 clear from any possible inundation ; but already the 

 torrent was washing the stone-faced embankment of the 

 garden-terrace, and if the monks had not built their 



