A THUNDERSTORM IN THE FOREST. 5 
the up-and-down motion communicated by the 
falling drop was by the formation of the leaf¬ 
stalk transformed at once into an odd vibration 
from side to side, which was like an indignant 
shaking of the head. 
Looking at the marvelous variety in the out¬ 
lines of these gleaming leaves, I suddenly found 
my memory tugging me back to the schoolroom 
where I was first taught botany. I recalled one 
melancholy morning when my teacher, who 
knew neither the derivation of botanical terms 
nor the true beauties of botanical science, or¬ 
dered me to commit to memory the list of adjec¬ 
tives applied to the various shapes of leaves. 
The dose prejudiced me against botany for full 
ten years of my life, yet here in this glistening 
carpet of the swamp I saw “lanceolate,” “auric- 
ulate,” “cordate,” “pinnate,” written, not in 
letters of gold, but in something equally impres¬ 
sive to the memory, and much more easy for a 
dull teacher to obtain. 
When one is in the deep woods and a flash of 
lightning comes, the eye seems to see a narrow 
horizontal belt of light play swiftly across the 
foliage immediately in the line of vision. If I 
looked at the ground I caught it there; if my 
eyes were fixed on the low branches at a dis¬ 
tance, the flash was there. Each flash was 
promptly followed by the glorious mountain 
