IN STORM AND SHINE 53 



professor who, wishing possibly to postulate some- 

 thing "new," declared to an unconvinced but 

 amused world that what it saw of a tree was not 

 the tree — the tree was underground. 



Whilst painting in the Val d'Arpette in June 

 of this year (1910), I met with a striking instance 

 of the boisterous treatment to which these plants 

 must accustom themselves. The day was radiantly 

 fine (as any one may see from the picture facing 

 page 24), yet suddenly, and without warning, a 

 most violent wind tore through the little valley, 

 sweeping everything loose and insecure before it, 

 upsetting my easel and camp-stool, carrying my 

 Panama hat up on to the snow, and making of 

 the Anemones and Violas a truly sorry sight. 



This violence, albeit of a somewhat different 

 nature, reminded me of several experiences I had 

 had of uncommonly powerful eddies of wind, 

 travelling, like some waterspout at sea, slowly, 

 in growling, whirring spirals, over the steep 

 pastures, tearing up the grass and blossoms and 

 carrying them straight and high up into the air ; 

 whilst all around — except myself! — remained un- 

 moved and peaceful. I have seen such eddies 

 strike a forest, shaking and swaying the giant 

 pines like saplings, wrenching off dead wood and 



