72 Clear Skies and Cloudy. 



business, not one man in a million is too soon 

 on the spot 



The birds of the hill-side this morning re- 

 called a curious specimen of humanity I met 

 with the other day. I asked him why he never 

 came to these old strolling grounds of his ; that 

 they had not changed for the worse in any way. 

 His reply was, " Oh, there is nothing new to be 

 found there." His idea of an outing was to 

 collect something new to the neighborhood, 

 plant or animal. All his out-door world con- 

 densed in that one word, "specimen." To 

 think, as he does, that there are no violets ex- 

 cept the one in his herbarium ; no birds, except 

 the distorted skins that disfigure his study. 

 Horrible ! After all, it is the life that attracts 

 us, and not the body that merely displays it, 

 and we have not the whole truth until both 

 body and soul are set before us. An ornitho- 

 logical museum and a graveyard have a vast 

 deal in common, and I prefer the lively sparrow 

 on the village green to its defunct cousin be- 

 hind glass doors, as I do my friends of to-day 

 to the crumbling remains of worthy ancestors. 



But a truce to controversy, and what more 



