I pay for my transplanting to these New England 

 fields. 



If that were all, it were price enough. But think 

 of June in New Jersey, with buzzards soaring, car- 

 dinals whistling, and turtle doves cooing ; with swamps 

 magnolia-scented, and woods astir with box-turtles, 

 pine snakes, pine-tree lizards, and 'possums! Then 

 think of June in Massachusetts with none of these, — 

 at least in my neighborhood ! 



What then ? I could scarcely strain the magnolia's 

 breath from the mingling odors if it were here, for 

 the common air I breathe is the breath of blossom- 

 ing clover, wild grape, elder, blackberry, rose, and 

 azalea. I must almost smell them hy faynilics. For 

 here are six wild roses perfuming my air, five vibur- 

 nums, six dogwoods (these last quite lacking in per- 

 fume, be it said), and wild blackberries that I have 

 never dared to number. Who wants to number them ? 

 to spend his June with a " plant analysis," dissecting 

 and keeping tally.? It is enough now to be alive and 

 out of doors among the flowers. Nor is it all of June 

 to find thirty-six species of birds nesting within a 

 radius of five hundred and fifty-five and one half feet 

 from yoMx front door. I do not cite these figures in 



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