A THUNDERSTORM IN THE FOREST . 3 
danger lay within those aisles of twilight. The 
veery ceased its song. No bird voice broke the 
stillness of the gloom, and a hush of expectation 
held every leaf motionless. The branches closed 
behind me and I stole on between lofty trees 
with mossy trunks, over fallen logs, and through 
the dripping jungle of ferns. Upland woods 
are cleaner, stronger, more symmetrical than 
swamp growth, but they have not the effect of 
tropical luxuriance which the swamp forest pos¬ 
sesses. The mosses, lichens, ferns of many 
species, climbing vines, and such large-leaved 
plants as the veratrum and skunk cabbage, give 
to the moist land an air of wealth of leaf-growth 
which is distinctive. 
Two species of orchid were conspicuous, ris¬ 
ing just above the ferns. They were the pur¬ 
ple-fringed, just coming into bloom, and the 
white, which was abundant. Splashing back 
and forth through the shallow pools, gathering 
the spikes of the white orchis, I did not at first 
notice a distant sound which grew in volume 
until its sullen vibration could not be ignored. 
The tree-tops above me gave a sudden, vicious 
swish. Crows to the westward were cawing 
wildly. The roar of the storm became unmis¬ 
takable; the swamp grew darker; a few big 
drops of rain fell, and then, as though a train 
were plunging down noisy rails upon the forest, 
