57(5 BIG (iA.ME OF NORTH AMERICA. 



leap from crag to crag, rushing through the dells, over hill 

 and dale, in the thickets, or in the tall prairie-grass; or in 

 milder sports, with faithful Setter and armed with light and 

 easy-hanging gun, to seek the woodcock among the alders 

 and brakes, or the confiding quail on the golden stubble 

 when I find a man who does not love these pastimes, it 

 seems to me that Nature has been derelict, and has neg- 

 lected to engraft into his being the highest attributes of 

 manhood. 



Not love Nature ? the flowing streams, the placid lake, 

 the waving prairie, the majestic forest, the grand, towering 

 mountain, the sublime, peaceful valley ? When a man can 

 say, truly, that the cares of business have weaned him from 

 the love of these things, then the longing for wealth, its 

 power and influence, has torn from him the enjoyment of 

 some of the greatest blessings of our life. We often wish 

 some dear friend or some honored guest, as he bids us good- 

 bye after having favored us with his companionship for a 

 time, health, wealth, and prosperity; but the greatest bless- 

 ing we could bestow on him, had we the power, would be 

 perfect health. Yet it is within the province of nearly every 

 man to possess it, if he will. It is not to be found in the 

 shop, the office, the store, or beneath the roof of buildings 

 made by man; it can be realized in its entirety only in the 

 open fields, in the forests, on the streams, when the earth is 

 bathed in sunshine, or when the Goddess of Night casts her 

 mantle over tired Nature, and kisses to rest the departed 

 da}', breathing into her sleeping form the sweet incense of 

 renewed life, as she bathes the verdure with her tears of 

 dew which gladden our existence. 



A selfish person we despise; but he who loves the fresh- 

 ness of the fields is not, nor ever will be, selfish. There is 

 a charm which seems to dwell in the balsam of the firs, in 

 the purity of the fields, in the odor of the flowers, which 

 descends from the blue vault of heaven by day and lingers 

 through the starry night, forever ennobling and enriching 

 the heart of him who loves the fields. You say of him, he 

 loves dogs or horses. Show me the man who does, and I 



