a^ujsing tl^c Cl^trD 



Nature and Cttlture 



THE sun set clear one evening, and we were 

 up at dawn the next morning for an ex- 

 cursion to Ox Creek, eleven miles away. It 

 is fine to be on a forest trail at sunrise. It is fine 

 anywhere to be up and off at the first color of dawn. 

 The dewdrops on the tree-tops glitter when the sun- 

 beams reach them ; the birds are more animated than 

 at any other time; there is hope and expectancy all 

 abroad, and in ourselves. It is the nearest return 

 to the jubilance of youth that one can make in life. 

 I can hear across sixty years the ringing echoes of 

 the wood-thrush as I rode through the forest to carry 

 the butter to the market-town before sun-up. It is 

 like an echo in a cathedral, only infinitely softer 

 and sweeter. Oh, those days of barefoot freedom! 

 All the world a glorious and charming mystery! It 

 never occurred to me that there were limitations. It 

 would not have surprised me had the thrush flut- 

 tered down to my shoulder and whispered some 

 delightful secret in my ear, nor if the trees had 

 bidden me a happy good morning. 



But Nature has her little hells. They are a 

 necessity to her, as they are to human and divine 

 society. One of these in the midst of Paradise is 

 a tamarack swamp. 



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