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NEW ENGLAND FARMER. 



June 



"And what is so rare as a day in June ? 

 Then, if ever, come perfect days." 



And a few lines farther on in this beautiful poem 

 by Lowell — 



''Whether we look or whether we listen, 

 We hear life murmur or see it glisten ; 

 Every clod feels a stir of might 

 An instinct within it that reaches and towers, 

 And, grasping bliidly above it for light, 

 Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers." 



Of course, our poet is using language figura 

 lively, an'' does not mean to assert any heresies 

 cone V' 'ng the xistence of mind ; but men have 

 actually held the doctrine which the above lines 

 contain, if taken literally. For example — "The 

 Americans believe that all creatures have souls, 

 not only men and women, but brutes, vegetables, 

 nay, even the most inanimate things, as stocks 

 and stones." 



We should premise that this was written when 

 "Americans" meant North American Indians, 

 and is not intended as a libel on the inhabitants 

 of the United States. We presume our aborig- 

 inal predecessors did not found their belief upon 

 any process of reasoning, but upon the sort of 

 instinctive sympathy we have with plants and 

 animals. The violet seems to you to have a gen- 

 tle soul, which only expresses itself in a faint 

 perfume, and should you crush it with your foot, 

 you would feel like some cruel tyrant, who has 

 immolated an unoflending victim. The tulip has 

 a regal soul, which you would not insult by any 

 indignity — but you see a gross weed among your 

 corn, and you pull it up and fling it away, saying, 

 "What business had it among my corn?" With 

 animals the sympathy is still greater, and it is 

 a difficult thing to draw the line between instinct 

 and reason. It is well known that many animals 

 evince what we should call a process of reasoning 

 were it exhibited in man, and the more closely 

 •we watch them, the more wonderful it seems. 

 Every one who owns a dog can tell anecdotes 

 which will illustrate this, and if he does not ac- 

 tually believe that 



"When translated to that upper sky, 

 Hii faithful dog shall bear him company," 



he half wishes the paradise of dogs were not a 

 myth ! 



While we would not be supposed to advocate 

 "the transmigration of souls," or any of its kin- 

 dred doctrines, we do not believe that animals 

 have credit for half the intelligence they really 

 possess — and yet, they tell us, that man himself 

 is only an oyster in a higher stage of develop- 

 ment ! (See Vestiges of Creation.) 



Because a man is dumb, we do not suppose 

 him to be destitute of ideas, and an animal, al- 

 though he cannot tell us what he is thinking 

 about, may have a language of his own, which 



we are too ignorant to understand. We know 

 that our domestic animals appreciate kindness, 

 and are capable of affection for us, and for each 

 other. A gentleman tells us that the robins in 

 his garden are acquainted with him. That when 

 a marauding cat steals in among them, and he 

 hears their cries of distress, he steps out from 

 his study, and they, knowing that a friend has 

 come, immediately cease their cries, and acknowl- 

 edge his presence with a note of welcome. 



It is curious to note with what simplicity the 

 little child reads stories of animals. It does not 

 surprise him at all, to be told that the wolf held 

 a long conversation with Little Red Riding Hood, 

 before he went and eat her grandmother ; and that 



"The frog he would a wooing go," 



appears to him the most natural thing in the 

 world, though it may seem rather naughty that 

 he should do so, 



"Whether his mother would let him or no." 



The child has faith ; he believes in the angels 

 that guard his bed while he sleeps, and that the 

 insect carries in its own little bosom its private 

 griefs and joys. We grown-up people shall be 

 wiser and better in many respects, when we "be- 

 come like little children." 



There is not an insect so small, as to be be- 

 neath our notice. "Go to the ant, thou sluggard, 

 consider her ways, and be wise." 



There is the great brown caterpillar which you 

 will find on your fruit-trees and rose-bushes 

 about this time, (if you were not wise enough to 

 exterminate him a month ago ;) he is an ugly- 

 looking creature enough, and a delicate lady 

 would as soon encounter a bear or a lion — he is 

 a nuisance to you, too, and you do not see what 

 end he answers in creation. Well, we do not see 

 either, and will only suppose he answers some — 

 but even he is an object of interest to those who 

 take pains to observe him closely. It is not 

 merely that he will come out of that rough case 

 one of these days, and will fan your cheek with 

 his butterfly wing, but he lives in the midst of 

 an organized community; perhaps he makes 

 stump speeches to his fellow-citizens ; he, too, 

 has his three meals a day, and walks out for ex- 

 ercise, and finally, when his time has come, he 

 seeks some secluded spot, weaves his own shroud, 

 and appears no more in the form he first wore. 



" And there's never a leaf or a blade too mean 



To be some happy creature's palace ; 

 The little bird sits at his door in the sun, 



Atilt like a blossom among the leaves. 

 And lets his illumined beinp o'errun 



With the deluge of summer it receives; 

 His mat-i teels the egsrs Ijeueath her wings. 

 And the heart in her dumb bieast flutters and sings ; 

 He sings to the wide world, and ehe to her nest, — 

 In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best.'" 



