SI 



" It may be deemed unmanly, hut the wise 

 Read nature like the manuscript of heaven, 

 And call the flowers its poetry. Go out ! 

 Ye spirits of habitual unrest, 

 And read it when the fever of the world 

 Hath made your hearts impatient, and, if life 

 Hath yet one spring unpoisoned, it will be 

 Like a beguiling music to its flow." N. P. WILT-IS. 



