"Nature never did betray 

 The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege, 

 Through all the years of this our life, to lead 

 From joy to joy; for she can so inform 

 The mind that is within us, so impress 

 With quietness and beauty, and so feed 

 With iofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, 

 Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, 

 X'T irr'-'etings where no kindness is, nor all 

 The dreary intercourse of daily life 

 Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb 

 Our cheerful faith that all which we behold 

 Is full of blessing." 



Wordsworth. 



"Whether it be the crested tit defying the chilliest blast of January: 

 violets mantling the meadow banks in April; thrushes singing their 

 farewell summer songs, or dull and dreary, dim December days it matters 

 not they never repent themselves, or else I am daily a new creature. 

 Xor sisrht nor sound but has the freshness of novelty, and one rambler, 

 at least, in his maturer years is still a boy at heart." C. C. Abbott. 



