NATURE'S TRYSTING PLACE. 105 



grass and sedge, the flowers of most herbs, have 

 completed their life's work, have reached ma- 

 turity, and now rest for a few days or weeks, 

 then fade, wither, and pass into the great un- 

 known. 



How kindly these old oaks, both white and 

 black, treat me ! As I approach they wave their 

 boughs in welcome greeting. When I sit by the 

 side of the old gray boulders they shelter me 

 from the vivid rays of sun and, at times, from 

 the pitiless rain and hail. In their tops the fox 

 squirrel gambols, and his antics furnish food for 

 fancies of my brain. There, too, the wood pee- 

 wee utters his plaintive note and the cicada his 

 rattling love calls. Were these oaks absent the 

 boulders would have little attraction, and an- 

 other spot would, very likely, be my trysting 

 place. 



And with whom do I keep tryst? Not with 

 a human of the gentler sex but with the God of 

 Nature, and with that spirit of inspiration 

 which dwells deep beneath the boulder's base, 

 yet at times deigns to come forth and hold com- 

 munion with my soul. 



