ng, wildfire, runs along the forest, flying from top to
top, and crackling amongst the branches. The soil, as well as the trees,
is swept away by the destructive torrent; and the country, despoiled of
beauty and riches, is left to mourn for ages.

Admiring, as I do, these noble forests, which seem to bid defiance to
time, I looked with pain on the ridge of rocks that stretched far beyond
my eye, formerly crowned with the most beautiful verdure.

I have often mentioned the grandeur, but I feel myself unequal to the
task of conveying an idea of the beauty and elegance of the scene when
the spiry tops of the pines are loaded with ripening seed, and the sun
gives a glow to their light-green tinge, which is changing into purple,
one tree more or less advanced contrasted with another. The profusion
with which Nature has decked them with pendant honours, prevents all
surprise at seeing in every crevice some sapling struggling for
existence. Vast masses of stone are thus encircled, and roots torn up by
the storms become a shelter for a young generation. The pine and fir
woods, left entirely to Nature, display an endless variety; and the paths
in the woods are not entangled with fallen leaves, which are only
interesting whilst they are fluttering between life and death. The grey
cobweb-like appearance of the aged pines is a much finer image of decay;
the fibres whitening as they lose their moisture, imprisoned life seems
to be stealing away. I cannot tell why, but death, under every form,
appears to me like something getting free to expand in I know not what
element--nay, I feel that this conscious being must be as unfettered,
have the wings of thought, before it can be happy.

Reaching the cascade, or rather cataract, the roaring of which had a long
time announced its vicinity, my soul was hurried by the falls into a new
train of reflections. The impetuous dashing of the rebounding torrent
from the dark cavities which mocked the exploring eye produced an equal
activity in my mind. My thoughts darted from earth to heaven, and I
asked myself why I was chained to life and its misery. Still the
tumultuous emotions this sublime object excited were pleasurable; and,
viewing it, my soul rose with renewed dignity above its cares. Grasping
at immortality--it seemed as impossible to stop the current of my
thoughts, as of the always varying, still the same, torrent before me; I
stretched out my hand to eternity, bounding over t