Particles of decayed bark, the borings of insects in dead wood, dust, and fragments of twigs, rush down in little streams and fill the eyes.

The quantity of woody powder that adheres to a tree is surprising; every motion dislodges it from a thousand minute crevices.

As for firs, in climbing a fir one cannot look up at all--dead sticks, needles, and dust pour down, and the branches are so thick together that the head has to be forced through them.

The line fixed, the saw is applied, and by slow degrees the butt cut nearly through.
Unless much overbalanced on one side by the limbs, an oak will stand on a still day when almost off.
Some now seize the rope, and alternately pull and slacken, which gives the tree a tottering movement.

One more daring than the rest drives a wedge into the saw-cut as it opens when the tree sways.