28S BOARD OF AGRICULTURE. [Jan., 



" Where the wild birds sing. 



In the fields where the (lowers spring, 

 Where the brooks run cool and clear 

 And the blue o£ Heaven bends near." 



• 



Happy enough are we who have our hves set in that great, 

 sweet, fresh world. And that answer comes to you here in 

 our talk about it as you think " that is our world." Happy 

 enough are you whose lot is cast in that bright, fresh, sweet 

 world, and not in that world which is hollow and false, " where 

 the prize is pain, and the teacher's name is Pride." Why then 

 discuss the need of the education of nature? Let me tell you: 

 On my way West last autumn, when the leaves were turning, I 

 stopped over, as I have done so many times since my girlhood 

 days in New York, at the great changing falls of Niagara. I 

 walked up the bank of the river, and stopped for a glass of 

 w^ater at a house where the roar of the falls was so heavy I 

 wondered if the good little woman who opened the door would 

 hear my voice. I needn't have been troubled, because she 

 did not hear the roar. When I told her of what I heard, she 

 surprised me by saying, " Well, I have always thought I 

 would go and see it sometimes, but I never got around to it." 

 I said, " did you really never see it? " " Oh," she said, " you 

 know I am busy. I always meant to, but you know I am too 

 busy." And I said, " come along with me now." She 

 looked at me just a moment. " No," she said, " the bread is 

 rising, and I am afraid to leave it. It's a hot day, and I 

 guess it might get sour." And I couldn't induce her to go 

 with me. And perhaps it was better, as perhaps somebody 

 else would not have liked it if his bread had been sour. And, 

 do you know, I always think of that little woman living so 

 near to one of nature's grandest sights, and who was so sweet 

 and gentle, and who looked as if she was almost at the end of 

 her chance to see it, and wonder whether she ever went to see 

 it, and I am afraid she never did. And that illustrates the 

 case of so many who live among nature's beauties on many 

 of our New England farms. They never enjoy them. There 

 is always bread to bake, you know. There are always dishes 

 to wash. The days are so full in the farmhouse. Some time 

 you intend to go and visit these scenes, as you know they are 

 always there, until, like the little woman at Niagara, you get 

 so used to it you do not hear the voice of many waters. I 



