122 BIRD PARADISE 



of the party they were far over by the swamp, 

 where, no doubt, Mr. Hawk finally escaped with 

 his prize. I felt like interfering but concluded 

 on the whole to let the birds manage their own 

 affairs. "Is there a place where the creatures 

 will live, without preying upon one another?" 



The great seams of deep ravines opening down 

 the slope, each holding a rippling brook, and 

 each a stroke among the hills, made when the 

 "morning stars first sang together," ah! how 

 they seem to call to each other across the broad 

 slope, "The hand that made us is divine." The 

 great hemlocks on their rugged sides are the 

 green pastures of the wood, all the year through, 

 and when the winter gale searches their high 

 places, the harp of the forest yields its richest 

 notes. But what shall we say of the life that 

 nestles everywhere in these broad aisles? On 

 the trees and in the trees, under the leaves, just 

 at the surface of the ground, and deep down in 

 the earth, life in a myriad forms revels and goes 

 forward. All the new experiences are so much 

 new life, and all the new life is the old trans- 

 figured. "Paradise regained" starts with para- 

 dise, and moves on to paradise, — all of it that 



