"Mrs. S. climbed out on the rocks." 



A Day at Cliff. 



It is a fact often commented upon that there is something 

 about Nature which makes her lovers clean, honest and gener- 

 ous. Anyone who loves the mountains, woods, lakes, streams 

 and birds is the better for it, and enjoys life the more. The 

 love of these things grows with us, becomes a part of us, and 

 we are the better physically and morally for it. No matter 

 where our lot is cast, this desire to get' close to the heart of 

 Mother Nature comes back to us. Some beautiful morning we 

 leave our city home to go to our place of business, and the first 

 step on the hard pavement brings with it a reminder of whis- 

 pering leaves, twittering birds and rippling waters. There is 

 perhaps something in the air this particular morning. As we 

 step out it catches us in a way we cannot explain. We cannot 

 reason out the feeling, but it is there. We miss the flutter of 

 dead leaves about our feet; the resilient carpet of moss which 

 clothes the great avenues under the pines and cedars comes 

 into our mind and we want to be there. The left hand longs 

 for the familiar motion of pushing aside the intervening 

 branches ; the right itches for the weight of rod or gun. The 

 sun and sky seem to glare down in our eyes and we long for 



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