220 BLACKBEBBYING. 



and be assured of the fact now. A few years (less than 

 twelve) ago, a black cloud came looming up in the north- 

 west, and started on its career towards the southeast. As 

 it swept along, it sent its fierce winds crashing, and howl- 

 ing, and roaring, through the old forests, uprooting, hurling 

 to the ground, and scattering everything that encountered 

 its fury. Houses, barns, haystacks, fences, trees, everything 

 were prostrated, and to this day its track is visible in the 

 swath it mowed through the old woods, from sixty to a 

 hundred rods wide, plain and distinct still, for miles and 

 miles. It was not of that tornado, however, that I propose 

 to speak. Others had preceded it, and in the country all 

 about Angelica were what were called ' windfalls.' These 

 windfalls were neither more nor less than the old tracks of 

 these whirlwinds and tornadoes, that had swept down the 

 forest trees. Fire had finished what the whirlwind begun. 

 In time, blackberry-bushes had grown up among the charred 

 trunks of the old pines, and other trees, bearing an immen- 

 sity of fruit; and it was a pleasant resort for young people, 

 one of those windfalls, when the blackberries were ripe and 

 luscious. These windfalls were great places, too, for rab- 

 bits, partridges, and ' such small deer,' and it was no great 

 thing to boast of, to kill a dozen or two of the birds of an 

 afternoon. 



" I went out with a friend one day to one of these wind- 

 falls, partly after blackberries, and partly for partridges. 

 We were both boys, younger than fifteen, then, and each 

 possessing, probably, quite as much discretion as valor. 



