THOUGHTS FROM WRITINGS 



THE blue sky (not, of course, the 

 blue of day), the white moon- 

 light, the bright stars— larger 

 at midnight and brilliant, in despite of 

 the moon, which cannot overpower them 

 in winter as she does in summer even- 

 ings—all are as beautiful as on the 

 distant hills of old. By night, at least, 

 even here, in the still silence, Heaven 

 has her own way.— 'Nature near Lon- 

 don ' : Magpie Fields. 



WHAT can the world produce 

 equal to the June rose? 

 The common briar, the com- 

 monest of all, offers a flower which, 

 whether in itself, or the moment of its 

 appearance at the junction of all sweet 

 summer things, or its history and 

 associations, is not to be approached 

 by anything a millionaire could purchase. 

 —'Nature near London': Trees about 

 Town. 



86 



