It is never safe to run from a falling tree in a line directly opposite from the course in which it falls, as it sometimes strikes other trees in such a way as to throw the butt from the stump. I have sometimes seen them shoot back in this way with the velocity of lightning half their length. Running from a falling tree in the way above alluded to, I knew a man killed in an instant. Another reason which should induce choppers or spectators to avoid this manner of retreat is, that the broken limbs frequently rebound, and are thrown back in a direction opposite that in which the tree falls. It reminds one of a routed enemy hurling their missiles, as they retreat, back upon the pursuing foe. I have sometimes seen the air in the region of the tree-tops literally darkened with the flying fragments, small and great, torn from trees in the thundering passage of one of those massive columns to the ground. Sometimes they come down like a shower of arrows, as if from the departed spirits of aërial warriors. To retreat safely, one should run in a direction so as to make nearly a right angle with the falling tree. A man by the name of Hale, a master chopper, cut a Pine which, in its passage down, struck in the crutch of another tree and broke the trunk of the falling one, the top of which pitched back and instantly killed him. If lumbermen do not love the return of the seventh day for its moral purposes, they welcome it for the rest it brings, and the opportunity it affords for various little matters of personal comfort which demand attention. On visiting our winter quarters, one of the first things which might arrest attention, indicating a Sabbath in the logging-swamp, would be a long morning nap. Dismissing care, they court the gentle spell, until, wearied with the lengthened night, they rise, not, as on other mornings, when their hurrying feet brush the early frosts as they pass to their work, while the lingering night casts back its wasting shadows upon their path. On the Sabbath morning they recline upon their boughy couches until the sun has traveled a long way upon his daily circuit.