I walked out into one of the fields and occupied an elevated position that afforded a good opportunity of witnessing what was, unexpectedly, soon to take place. I had been there from a half to three-quarters of an hour, when the gust, which had been gathering to the north-west presented a threatening appearance, a heavy rain apparently passing round to the northward. Suddenly, a dark cloud made its appearance to the south-west, forming rapidly from the atmosphere, and moving with the lower current of air, to the northward. As soon as it reached the vicinity of the gust, the usual play of electricity commenced, which is frequently observed when clouds of unequal temperature meet. My attention was soon directed to a constant roaring or boiling noise that suddenly commenced at a point in the heavens to the north-west of me, and near the western extremity of the two clouds, a noise not quite resembling thunder, which, however, I supposed it to be, and said to myself, "can it be that the main body of the storm is in that direction when it looks so much darker and more threatening farther to the north?" for the clouds in the immediate vicinity of the noise were of a light appearance. The constant roaring, however, continued for probably five to eight minutes, when I first observed in the direction whence it proceeded, a dark cloud of smoky appearance rising from the earth and whirling in a terrible manner, with streams of lightning darting in quick succession from different directions into it, and a whitish, funnel-shaped cloud suspended over it. I was considerably startled, remarked that a cyclone was coming, halted a moment to ascertain the direction in which it was traveling, which appeared to be towards me, and started in haste to the house. I soon found that it would pass a little to the north, and would not strike us, though the air was thick with objects nearly overhead, many of which, to an observer at a considerable distance, closely resembled buzzards sailing round. I immediately took my stand on the upper porch at the east end of the house, when an almost uninterrupted view could be had all the way to the village of Ercildoun, and here the grandest and most terrible sight that I ever beheld, suddenly burst into view, as the tornado passed from behind the hill north of the house, and crossed the narrow-wooded valley near Brinton's Mill, on the road leading to Coatesville. This spot was heavily set with white-oak timber of good growth, but the moment it was struck by the whirlwind, the sturdy oaks, which had been standing for probably a century, were instantly thrown to the ground, many of them raising tons of earth and stones upon their roots, while others, not willing to leave the soil that had nourished them so long, were broken off at different heights and scattered around in confusion, or carried up in the winding funnel to be dashed from the earth far from where they grew.