2 HALF-HOUllS IN THE GREEN LANES. 



them, as Hawthorne's " Donelli " did, is a gift not TO 

 be despised! And it is surprising, if you are really 

 interested in your fellow inhabitants of nature, how 

 soon they seem to recognise the fact, and to 

 familiarise themselves with your presence, as though 

 they knew you had a kindred feeling for them. As 

 you recline on the flower-covered bank, shortly you 

 see the birds following their usual avocations, 

 quarrelling and making love, as if an individual of 

 the genus homo were not present. The butterflies 

 flit about you, the bees hum busily, the dragon -flies 

 skim the surface, and buzz against your very face. 

 The fishes rise at the flies, or bound above the water 

 in frolicsome sport. The water-beetles spin and 

 dive, and the flies and gnats drum around you , 

 whilst overhead the summer sun is shining out of an 

 intensely blue sky, just flecked with dappled white 

 clouds. You shut your eyes, and allow your ears to 

 drink in the many voices of nature. Bird and 

 insect, wind and tree and rustling grass, all con- 

 tribute to it. There is not a discordant note. How 

 wonderfully all seem to blend and lose themselves in 

 the joint and harmonious chorus ! 



We are not speaking now of the feelings of the 

 mere hunter or collector of specimens, of him who 

 values them not unless they are rare, so that his 

 cabinet may be enriched by their grotesquely dried 

 forms, and his selfish vanity be fed by the admiring 

 envy of his friends when he exhibits them. If the 

 study of and communion with Nature lends to no 



