U'r±._> -U AiJi'.^L'^ 



J TUBE ASD ITS KINDRZD aHTs A^D SLii.NCES. 



TOL. XT. 



BOSTON, JUXE, 18»33. 



yo. 6. 



XOrRSE, E.4T0S' fc TOLSLO.", PEOpanTES. 

 Oftice I'M Washisgtos Sibxet. 



SDfOX BBOW, Ei>rr«». 



JTJITB. 

 ••How lorely how channinz ha? nature t*?n made. 

 The hill in the sunshine, the wali in the shade ; 

 The wild rose adomine the hetice with iu blxim. 

 And loading the air wiih the t^rfume of Jane. 

 How green are the meadow?, how bright is the mom, " 

 How glitter the dew-drc.ps on laorel and 'Lhom ; 

 How pearly and pore is the briar in bloom. 

 How lorely the Sowers that Wossom in Jane." 



Y the operations of' 

 the laws of nature, 

 JoTE. lovely June, — 

 the Month of roses, — 

 a?ain opens upon us, 

 with all its new scenes, 

 new sounds and new 

 employments. With- 

 out these agreeable 

 I changes, life would be- 

 come one monotonous 

 and gloomy road to 

 the grave ! But the 

 wise and good Father 

 has not left us to such 

 a fate. His mercies 

 are not alone in the 

 reyolving seasons, but 

 are "every morning 



and evening new," — every hour, indeed, crowning 

 our lives with fresh proofs of his love, if we will 

 but listen to his voice, and study the pages every- 

 where so amply unfolded to us. 



Now, Summer has come, and opens to us a new 

 volume — just as new as though it never had been 

 opened before. Let us observe some cf its won- 

 derful productions. 



When June opens, "Spring may be considered," 

 says a beautiful English writer, "as employed in 

 completing her toilet, and for the first weeks of 

 this Month, putting on those last finishing touch- 

 es which an accomplished beauty never trusts to 

 any hand but her own. In the woods and groves, 

 also, she is still clothing some of her noblest and 

 proudest attendants with their new annual attire. 



The Oak. until now. has been nearly bare ; arii. ? 

 whatever age, has been looking eld all the "^' 



and Spring, on account of its crumpled br_: 



and wrinkled rind. Xow, of whatever age, it k>oks 

 young, in virtue of its new green, lighter than all 

 the rest of the grove. Now. also, the stately Wal- 

 nut, standing singly or in pairs, puts forth its 

 smooth leaves slowly, as "sage, grave men" do 

 their thoughts ; and which over-caution recoocfles 

 one to the beating it receives in the automn, as 

 the best means of at once compassing its present 

 fruit, and making it bear more. The \\'heat, the 

 Oats, the Barley, and even the early Rye, have 

 not yet b^rome tingtd with their harvest boes> 

 They are all alike green ; and the only change that 

 can be seen in their appearance is that caused by 

 the different lights into which each is ihrowiv as 

 the wind parses over them- The patches of pur- 

 ple or of white Clover that intervene here and 

 there, and in flower, offer striking exceptiocc to 

 the above, and at the same time load the aii with 

 sweeuicss. Nothing can be more rich and beau- 

 tiful ia its effect on a distant prospect at thb sea- 

 son, than a great patch of purple Clover l}"iag ap- 

 parently motionless on a sunny upland, encom- 

 passed by a whole sea of green grain, waving and 

 shilling about it at ever}- breath that blows.*' 



The hay-harvest, which the same writer so beau- 

 tifully pictures, has been greatly changed, both 

 here and in England, since be wrote the fuliowing 

 description: — "The Hay -harvest, besid» filliiig 

 the whole air with its sweetness, is even m't • 

 turesque in the appearances it offers, as -v 

 more pleasant in the associations it 

 than the Harvest in .\utumn. Wha: 

 succession of pictures it presents ! 



"First, the Mowers, stooping over their scyth*'*. 

 and movir.gwith measured paces thioagh the t::r- 

 ly morning mists, interrupted at intervals h\ the 

 freshening music of the whetstone. Then — blithe 

 companions of both sexes, ranged ia regular amy, 

 and moving lengthwise and across the Meadows, 



