212 Wisconsin State Hobticultural Society. 



the soft white lambs of the meadow, the pretty, large eyed young 

 of the kine, and the fluffy broods of the farm yard, to siy nothing 

 of the gentle race of flower folk that breathe their fragrance upon 

 our pathway and lift their lovely faces to gladden and refine our 

 homes. Nature reveals herself to the pure in heart, and often 

 imparts a second sight to the lowly, who have never learned the 

 alphabet of science. In some silent, mysterious way, they seem 

 to comprehend the language of her poor, dumb creatures. Who 

 has not seen tire living personification of the poet's fancy? 



" A still old man, with grizzled beard, 



Grey eye, bent shape, and rugged features, 

 His quiet footstep is not feared 

 By shyest woodland creatures. 



" He hides within his simple b r ain 

 All instincts innocent and holy, 

 The music of the wood-bird's strain, 

 Not blithe nor melancholy. 



" He knows the moods of woodland things, 

 He holds in his own speechless fashion 

 For helpless forms of fur and wings, 

 A mild paternal passion. 



" Within his horny hands he holds 



The warm brood of the ruddy squirrel ; 

 The bushy mother storms and scolds, 

 But knows no sense of peril. 



"The dormouse shares his crumb of cheese, 

 His homeward trudge the rabbits follow ; 

 He finds in angles of the trees 

 The cup nest of the swallow. 



" Our science and our empty pride, 

 Our busy dream of introspection, 

 To God seem poor and vain beside 

 This dumb, sincere reflection." 



Nature is a patient teacher, and if out of her great story-book 

 we learn so many beautiful things about her four-footed children 

 and our little neighbors with fur and feather ■>, that make our woods 

 and fields jubilant with clatter and with song, what sacred lessons 

 will she not teach us of the little ones who are flesh of our flesh and 



