200 Wisconsin State Horticultural Society. 



beauty and perfection. Here was bright sunshine, refreshing 

 shade, green hills and placid waters, making such lovely land- 

 scapes as were never seen before. Here every want of man was 

 perfectly supplied and he lived the perfect godlike life. " Ah ! " 

 said my companion, " we have at last found our true home upon 

 earth, our heaven, our perpetual June ; here we will rest content- 

 edly forever." In the words of Tacitus I replied, "Let the sweet 

 muses lead me to their soft retreats; their living fountains, the 

 melodious groves, where I may dwell remote from care, master of 

 myself, under no necessity of doing every day what my heart 

 condemns." 



We enjoyed this paradise of sense for a few days, but at last 

 began to feel oppressed with a feeling of loneliness and longing 

 for something more. Inquiry was made of our friends and com- 

 panions why it was that such unbroken silence prevailed both 

 day and night; we told them of our singing birds, our buzzing 

 bees, chirping crickets, and bright winged butterflies. They 

 pressed eagerly about us, urging us to tell them more about these 

 strange, bright colored, singing animals that had wings like fins, 

 that could swim in the air. for such a strange story had never 

 been told them before. The charm for us now was broken for- 

 ever ; we could be happy in no home, however beautiful, where 

 the song of the .Robin and Bluebird was not heard, and we im- 

 plored our good Genie to take us back again to our dear Wis- 

 consin home of summer's heat and winter's cold. He waved his 

 magic wand over us and we were soon homeward bound. As we 

 approached our own land, we discerned spring approaching, and 

 in the far distance, on the Pacific slope, on Alaska's borders, over 

 the western prairies and eastern meadows and mountain tops, we 

 heard millions of well known voices which we recognized as 

 Kobins. The same dear old Eobin Redbreast song that delighted 

 us so much in childhood — that will delight us ever while we live. 

 It is the same sweet old song that has been sung for ages, and 

 perhaps will be sung for all time ; who can tell ? Possibly we 

 may hear it at the very gates of Heaven ; I hope so. Thoreau 

 savs ; "I heard a Robin in the distance, the first I had heard for 

 many a thousand years, methought, whose notes I shall not forget 



