10 IN BIRD LAND. 



the world of being. How fortunate that men are 

 so variously constituted ! If some did not naturally 

 choose the bustle and stir and excitement of the 

 city, where would be our philanthropists, our How- 

 ards and Peabodys and Dodges? On the other 

 hand, if others did not voluntarily seek quiet and 

 solitude in Nature's unfrequented haunts, the world 

 would never have been blessed with a Wordsworth, 

 an Emerson, or a Lowell ; and in that case, for some 

 of us at least, life would have been bare and arid. 



It is true, we cannot accept Pope's dictum, " What- 

 ever is, is right." We know that many things that 

 are, are wrong; but doubtless more things in this 

 paradoxical old world are right than moraUsts some- 

 times suppose. To the genuine lover of Nature, and 

 especially to the lover of her unbeaten pathways, 

 the ringing lines of Emerson come home with 

 thrilling power : — 



" If I could put my woods in song 

 And tell what 's there enjoyed, 

 All men would to my gardens throng, 

 And leave the cities void." 



Yet I doubt if any spot in Nature's domain could 

 be made so attractive as to overcome most persons' 

 natural love of human association. Mayhap even 

 if this could be done, it would not be desirable. 

 Should all men hie to the woods and leave the 

 cities void, it would spoil both the woods and the 

 cities. The charm of the woods is their quiet, 

 their solitude; the enchantment of the city, its 



