THE ROMANCE OF NATURAL HISTORY. 



ways, and admiring each successive view, I wished 

 to find language to express my ideas. Epithet 

 after epithet was found too weak to convey to 

 those who have not visited the intertropical 

 regions the sensations of delight which the mind 

 experiences. I have said that the plants in a hot- 

 house fail to communicate a just idea of the vege- 

 tation, yet I must recur to it. The land is a 

 great, wild, untidy, luxuriant hothouse, made by 

 Nature for herself, but taken possession of by 

 man, who has studded it with gay houses and 

 formal gardens. How great would be the desire 

 of every admirer of nature to behold, if such were 

 possible, the scenery of another planet 1 yet to 

 every person in Europe it may be truly said that, 

 at the distance of only a few degrees from his 

 native soil, the glories of another world are 

 opened to him. In my last walk, I stopped again 

 and again to gaze at these beauties, and endeav- 

 oured to fix in my mind for ever, an impression 

 which at the time I knew sooner or later must 

 fail. The form of the orange-tree, the cocoa-nut, 

 the palm, the mango, the tree-fern, the banana, 

 will remain clear and separate ; but the thousand 

 beauties which unite these into one perfect scene 

 must fade away; yet they will leave, like a tale 

 heard in childhood, a picture full of indistinct, but 

 most beautiful figures.'"* 



The late James Wilson made his first acquaint- 

 ance with the storks of Holland under very im- 

 pressive circumstances. One summer evening, of a 

 beautifully calm and serene character, he had 

 sauntered into a churchyard, and found himself, 

 when the sun had set, and the dim twilight was 

 fading into darkness, alone. All was solemnly 

 still, as became the scene ; not a sound being audi- 

 * Ibid., ch. xxi. 



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