Here a wonderful and most melancholy phenomenon arrested our attention. Thousands and thousands of trees covered the valley, each of them about thirty feet high; but every tree was dead, and extended its leafless boughs to another--a forest of desolation, as if nature had at some particular moment ceased to vegetate! There was no underwood or grass. On the lowest of the dead boughs, the gannets, and other sea birds, had built their nests in numbers unaccountable. Their tameness, as Cooper says, "was shocking to me." So unaccustomed did they seem to man, that the mothers, brooding over their young, only opened their beaks, in a menacing attitude at us, as we passed by them. How to account satisfactorily for the simultaneous destruction of this vast forest of trees, was very difficult; there was no want of rich earth for nourishment of the roots. The most probable cause appeared to me, a sudden and continued eruption of sulphuric effluvia from the volcano; or else, by some unusually heavy gale of wind or hurricane, the trees had been drenched with salt water to their roots. One or the other of these causes must have produced the effect. The philosopher, or the geologist, must decide. We had the consolation to know that we should at least experience no want of food--the nests of the birds affording us a plentiful supply of eggs, and young ones of every age; with these we returned loaded to the cove. The party that had gone to the westward, reported having seen some wild hogs, but were unable to secure any of them; and those who had attempted to ascend the mountain, returned much fatigued, and one of their number missing. They reported that they had gained the summit of the mountain, where they had discovered a large plain, skirted by a species of fern tree, from twelve to eighteen feet high--that on this plain they had seen a herd of goats; and among them, could distinguish one of enormous size, which appeared to be their leader. He was as large as a pony; but all attempts to take one of them were utterly fruitless. The man who was missing had followed them farther than they had. They waited some time for his return; but as he did not come to them, they concluded he had taken some other route to the cove. I did not quite like this story, fearing some dreadful accident had befallen the poor fellow, for whom we kept a watch, and had a fire burning the whole night, which, like the former one, we passed in the huts. We had an abundant supply of fire-wood from the wreck, and a stream of clear water ran close by our little village.