A NATURALIST. 101 



sometimes give very odd reasons for the processes 

 they adopt. 



A full-grown pine-forest is at all times a grand 

 and majestic object to one accustomed to moving 

 through it. Those vast and towering columns, sus- 

 taining a waving crown of deepest verdure; those 

 robust and rugged limbs standing forth at a vast 

 height overhead, loaded with the cones of various 

 seasons; and the diminutiveness of all surrounding 

 objects compared with these gigantic children of 

 nature, cannot but inspire ideas of seriousness, and 

 even of melancholy. But how awful and even tre- 

 mendous does such a situation become, when we 

 hear the first wailings of the gathering storm, as it 

 stoops upon the lofty summits of the pine, and soon 

 increases to a deep hoarse roaring, as the boughs 

 begin to wave in the blast, and the whole tree is 

 forced to sway before its power. In a short time 

 the fury of the wind is at its height, the loftiest 

 trees bend suddenly before it, and scarce regain 

 their upright position ere they are again obliged to 

 cower beneath its violence. Then the tempest lite- 

 rally howls, and amid the tremendous reverberations 

 of thunder, and the blazing glare of the lightning, 

 the unfortunate wanderer hears around him the 

 crash of numerous trees hurled down by the storm, 

 and knows not but the next may be precipitated 

 upon him. More than once have I witnessed all the 

 grandeur, dread, and desolation of such a scene, and 

 have always found safety either by seeking as quickly 

 as possible a spot where there were none but young 

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