XVI. 



SiQN3 OF RAIN. —The Tree Frog. — A rainy day in the Forest 



The breeze had now floated us to the second 

 island. "We sliot into a little bay, and remained 

 for a sliort time, admiring the scenery around us. 

 " Squire," said my guide, as we lay in this little bay, 

 enjoying its cool shades, " it always seems to me that 

 a man thinks more and better away off in the woods, 

 among the wild kritters and nateral things, than he 

 does in the settlements or in the towns. That he 

 comes to be what you call a philosopher — a sort of 

 nateral poet — and though he mayn't write verse or 

 string rhymes, yet there's real poetry in his heart and 

 in his feelins'. He sees things that sets him a reflect- 

 in', and makes him inquire into their nater, and it's 

 thinkin'. and inquirin', that makes people wise. Ex- 

 perience is a great thing everywhere, but a man won't 



7* 



