334 ' The Brave Old Oak: 



the sandy soil, showing that the prevalent winds are 

 south and west. The waves, thrown against the 

 shore with the force they have acquired in rolling six 

 or seven hundred yards, wash away the earth and 

 undermine the bank, forming a miniature chff or 

 precipice, the face of w^hich is always concave, pro- 

 jecting a little at the foot and also at the top. So 

 much is this the case that an unwary person walk- 

 ing too near the edge may feel the sward suddenly 

 yield and find it necessary to scramble off before 

 a few hundred-weights of earth subside into the 

 water. 



In this process the loamy part of the earth is dis- 

 sipated, or rather held in suspension, while the small 

 stones and ultimately the heavier sand fall to the 

 bottom and form the sand}- floor preferred hy the fish. 

 The loam discolors the water during a storm for 

 several yards out to sea, so to say ; so that in a boat 

 passing by you know by the hue of the weaves when 

 you are approaching the dangers of the chffs. This 

 continuous eating away of the earth proceeds so fast 

 that an old hollow oak tree now stands — at what 

 may be called the high tide of summer — so far from 

 the strand that a boat ma^' pass between. 



Like a wooden island the old oak rears itself up 

 in the midst ; the waves break against it, and when 

 there is but a ripple the sunlight glancing on the 

 water is reflected back, and plays upon the rugged 

 trunk, illuminating it with a moving design as the 

 wavelets roll in. The w^ater is so shallow at the edge 

 that the shadows of the ridges of the waves follow 

 each other over the sandy floor. They reflect the 

 bright rays upon the tree-trunk where they weave 



