. In God's out-of-doors. Natural history. ^/ si- saunter up toward the woods which climb the hill and stand strong and manfully upon the brow, coquetting with the south wind in the summer and defying the J north winds in winter. And just this side the hill- ^j top I stop and lie down in the shadows and listen ;4 —and hear the sea. On the hilltop I can sight the sea ; below the hilltop 1 can hear the sea. How the branches toss here ; not sedately, as when 1 saw 4'\3?y"^"--.~: them from far below by the spring, but wildly, and each tree after its own fashion! And how sad the voic
. In God's out-of-doors. Natural history. ^/ si- saunter up toward the woods which climb the hill and stand strong and manfully upon the brow, coquetting with the south wind in the summer and defying the J north winds in winter. And just this side the hill- ^j top I stop and lie down in the shadows and listen ;4 —and hear the sea. On the hilltop I can sight the sea ; below the hilltop 1 can hear the sea. How the branches toss here ; not sedately, as when 1 saw 4'\3?y"^"--.~: them from far below by the spring, but wildly, and each tree after its own fashion! And how sad the voices of the wind are! One could weep for sorrow hearing the lonely winds washed through the tree- tops. In Kansas winds are hardly ever quiet, and often blow like a triumph, so that there is much singing of summer songs through the woods. Always, by daylight in particular, you may climb from the wooded valley to this wooded crest, and walk through the quiet of calm, where scarcely a leaf will nod, or a note of music be struck by the winds from the forest, till, as you approach the hill- top, the beat of distant waves on distant rocks is audible, and when at the top you are in a very fury of fighting surf, dashing white spray up the long rocks. 1 love this music and 1 can not tell how dear it is, but hearing it 1 can dream and see visions, and climb God's highest hills while this surf-music is in my ears and in my heart. But when trees are leafless in autumn and winter, and the wind rages and snarls like a hungry lion, and tears at the branches, as a lion at the bars which make his prison, then is the music 218. Please note that these images are extracted from scanned page images that may have been digitally enhanced for readability - coloration and appearance of these illustrations may not perfectly resemble the original Quayle, William A. (William Alfred), 1860-1925. Cincinnati, Jennings & Pye; New York, Eaton & Mains
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, booksubjectnatural, bookyear1902
