JUNE IN FRANC ON I A. 35 



"charmed days, 

 When the genius of God doth flow," 



what care we for science or the objects of 

 science, for grosbeak or crossbill (may the 

 birds forgive me !), or the latest novelty in 

 willows? I am often where fine music is 

 played, and never without being interested; 

 as men say, I am pleased. But at the twen- 

 tieth time, it may be, something touches my 

 ears, and I hear the music within the music ; 

 and, for the hour, I am at heaven's gate. 

 So it is with our appreciation of natural 

 beauty. We are always in its presence, but 

 only on rare occasions are our eyes anointed 

 to see it. Such ecstasies, it seems, are not 

 for every day. Sometimes I fear they grow 

 less frequent as we grow older. 



We will hope for better things; but, 

 should the gloomy prognostication fall true, 

 we will but betake ourselves the more assid- 

 uously to lesser pleasures, to warblers and 

 willows, roses and strawberries. Science 

 will never fail us. If worse comes to worst, 

 we will not despise the moths. 



