^ 



tica nnd Anemone on the liillside, linfres tlic meadow witli preen, breathes on tree 

 and shrill), and l)ids them revive, and awakes the sontj: of hirds. Summer lills 

 the air with tVagraiiec and music, robes the forest in deep, rich foliajre, sui)])lies 

 man with fair and invijxorating; fruits, and declvs his liebls with the toUons of a 

 coming harvest. She brings us cool and dewy niornings, long twilights, evening 

 airs, resonant with the chir|) of insects, the peal of distant bells, and the murmur 

 of leaves and streams. She brings that 



" strange, supei'fluous glory of the air," 



which poetry feels, though chemistry cannot discover it, brings skies of trojiieal 

 richness and splendor, clouds, and refreshing rain. Autumn comes laden with 

 ruddy fruit and golden grain ; she decks the hills with variegated banners, and 

 over all casts a thin, azure haze, softening the rugged outlines of the landscape, 

 sutfusing every olyect with a dreamy spell which laps the beholder in an p]lysium 

 of delight. And last in the train comes winter, s])reading his white inantle over 

 the earth, hanging crystal pendants on tree and shrul), purifying the atmosphere, 

 giving the sky a deeper blue, and the stars an inteuser lustre, filling the northern 

 air with Auroral coruscations, and compelling the coldest heart to exclaim : "God 

 hath made everything beautiful in its time !" , 



But is the world, indeed, one wide, unvarying scene of beauty ? There are 

 exceptions, certainly, to this general fact. In the animal and vegetable kingdoms, 

 there are imperfect developments and deformities even. There are thorns and 

 poisons as well as flowers and wholesome fruits. Barren deserts, vast marshes, 

 and rocky wastes abound as well as fertile plains and blooming gardens. Tem- 

 pests howl through the sky, the lightning smites the earth, volcanoes and earth- 

 quakes rend its bosom. Does not this mixed state of things indicate that some- 

 thing has hai)pened to the earth since its creation ? May it not be that the natural 

 world sympathizes with its chief inhabitant and lord, bearing part of the woe which 

 has fallen upon him ? 



" eartli ! dost tlmu, too, sorrow for the past 

 Like man, thy offspring ? * * * 



* * * ]Jost thoii wail 

 For that fair age of which the poets tell. 

 Ere yet the M'inds grow keen with frosts, or fire 

 Fell with the rains, or spouted from the hills, 

 To blast thy greenness ?" 



But, without pursuing this inquiry, it is obvious that the world is full of beauty : 

 it surrounds man with a continual presence, and addresses his soul through every 

 possible avenue. What, now, is the meaning of this beauty ? It is not here by 

 accident. The machinery of the universe might have been firmly constructed, and 

 its parts closely fitted and properly lubricated, without being adorned with tracery, 

 and set with gems. Why, then, did the Creator superadd the ornamental to the 

 useful ? We answer — why should he have done otherwise ? It is hardly con- 

 ceivable that the Divine Intelligence should manifest itself spontaneously in the 

 way of deformity and ugliness. On the contrary, it seems proper to sup])0se that 

 God made the world beautiful, because, in giving visible expression to the thoughts 

 of his own perfect mind, he could not embody them otherwise than in forms of 

 beauty. 



Moreover, the earth so made contributes to the Divine happiness. Tell us not 

 that the Almighty takes no pleasure in that on whose adornment he has lavished 

 so much care, and which his own lijjs have pronounced "very good." The earth 

 was not made as it is solely for man's enjoyment ; else, what mean the thousand. 



