96 SUMMEE IN A BOG. 



themselves: they could ridicule the angels in 

 heaven ! 



How different is an afternoon in the woods 

 and fields ! Let us hasten thither, for the time 

 passes so quickly. 



It is spring, and the fresh grass is sprinkled 

 with buttercups and spring-beauties. How di- 

 vine are the violets! Or the phlox fills the 

 spaces with a misty flush. 



June ! love and roses and the fullness of 

 life! — can we ask any more? Kind Heaven, 

 how good to all created ! Let us lie full-length, 

 with faces in the grass, and hear the stream 

 ripple and sing over its rocky bed. 



If it is autumn, a thousand hands reach out 

 to grasp and hold us. 



And the refreshments 1 A twig of sassafras 

 takes us back into childhood; or the golden- 

 brown, wrinkled berry of a May-apple. A rose- 

 haw touched by the frost, or an amber ground- 

 cherry, in its withered, bladdery calyx-cup, 

 cheers and inebriates with the exhilaration of 

 new-found old delights. "Mary, did you ever 

 taste a leaf of the lady's-thumb?" and you 

 trick her into it. 0, don't mention pepper 

 after that ! 



The sun sinks low, and we must hasten 

 home. No one has had a thought of the clothes 

 she wore ; only of those she has seen, surpass- 



