ely level. While the flood-storm was in progress
the thermometer at Knoxville ranged between 44 deg. and 50 deg.; and when warm
wind and warm rain fall simultaneously on snow contained in basins like
these, both the rain and that portion of the snow which the rain and
wind melt are at first sponged up and held back until the combined mass
becomes sludge, which at length, suddenly dissolving, slips and descends
all together to the trunk channel; and since the deeper the stream the
faster it flows, the flooded portion of the current above overtakes the
slower foot-hill portion below it, and all sweeping forward together
with a high, overcurling front, debouches on the open plain with a
violence and suddenness that at first seem wholly unaccountable. The
destructiveness of the lower portion of this particular flood was
somewhat augmented by mining gravel in the river channels, and by levees
which gave way after having at first restrained and held back the
accumulating waters. These exaggerating conditions did not, however,
greatly influence the general result, the main effect having been caused
by the rare combination of flood factors indicated above. It is a pity
that but few people meet and enjoy storms so noble as this in their
homes in the mountains, for, spending themselves in the open levels of
the plains, they are likely to be remembered more by the bridges and
houses they carry away than by their beauty or the thousand blessings
they bring to the fields and gardens of Nature.

On the morning of the flood, January 19th, all the Feather and Yuba
landscapes were covered with running water, muddy torrents filled every
gulch and ravine, and the sky was thick with rain. The pines had long
been sleeping in sunshine; they were now awake, roaring and waving with
the beating storm, and the winds sweeping along the curves of hill and
dale, streaming through the woods, surging and gurgling on the tops of
rocky ridges, made the wildest of wild storm melody.

It was easy to see that only a small part of the rain reached the ground
in the form of drops. Most of it was thrashed into dusty spray like that
into which small waterfalls are divided when they dash on shelving
rocks. Never have I seen water coming from the sky in denser or more
passionate streams. The wind chased the spray forward in choking drifts,
and compelled me again and again to seek shelter in the dell copses and
back of large trees to rest and catch my breath. Wh