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Artus, once so pretty a picture with their diah the belt of h the bad lands, lay a broad road, as if an aroon edge to lagoon edge This was the path left by the great fore-foot of the storm; but had you searched the woods on either side, you would have found paths where the lesser winds had been at work, where the baby inds had been at play

From the bruised woods, like an incense offered to heaven, rose a perfuathered and scattered, of rain-wet leaves, of lianas twisted and broken and oozing their sap; the perfume of nerecked and ruined trees--the essence and soul of the artu, the banyan and cocoa-palm cast upon the wind

You would have found dead butterflies in the woods, dead birds too; but in the great path of the stors, feathers, leaves frayed as if by fingers, branches of the aoa, and sticks of the hibiscus broken into little fragh to rip a ship open, root up a tree, half ruin a city

Delicate enough to tear a butterfly wing fro about in the woods with Dick on the day after the storreat tree and little bird, and recollecting the land birds she had caught a gli safely by the stor from her heart Mischance had come, and spared them and the baby The blue had spoken, but had not called the which we in civilisation call Fate--was for the present gorged; and, without being annihilated, her incessant hypochondriacal dread condensed itself into a point, leaving her horizon sunlit and clear

The cyclone had indeed treated theht say, amiably It had taken the house but that was a small matter, for it had left them nearly all their small possessions The tinder box and flint and steel would have been a much more serious loss than a dozen houses, for, without it, they would have had absolutely noa fire

If anything, the cyclone had been almost too kind to them; had let them pay off too little of that ods