144 BOULDER EEVEEIES. 



XXXIII. 



July 2, '05. Another June has passed for- 

 ever beyond my ken. Another July has been 

 ushered in. I measure my years by their 

 Aprils, Junes and Octobers. The Aprils I love 

 for their southern breezes, fresh from the Gulf, 

 bringing the first days of the great awakening ; 

 for their violets and dandelions ; for their earth 

 odors and songs of migrating warblers; for all 

 else which goes to make a part of the glorious 

 spring time. 



The Junes are to me delightful for their 

 balmy atmospheres and the clear, unbroken blue 

 of their skies ; for the dense green of grass and 

 leaves when all the powers of life are in their 

 prime; for the odors of ripening wheat and 

 elder blossoms and the rich hues of wild roses. 

 Then too in June-time we see first the firefly's 

 glim and taste the first wild raspberries of the 

 season. 



Octobers are to me most charming for the 

 glory of the autumn foliage, with its scarlets, 

 browns and crimsons, all mingled in perfect 

 harmony; for that hush which then comes o'er 



