GENERAL, AND MISCELLANEOUS 421 



first fully ripe on its stem. I am struck by the perfect 

 confidence and success of nature. There is no question 

 about the existence of these delicate creatures, their 

 adaptedness to their circumstances. There is super- 

 added superfluous paintings and adornments, a crystal- 

 line, jewel-like health and soundness, like the colors 

 reflected from ice-crystals. 



When some rare northern bird like the pine grosbeak 

 is seen thus far south in the winter, he does not suggest 

 poverty, but dazzles us with his beauty. There is in them 

 a warmth akin to the warmth that melts the icicle. 

 Think of these brilliant, warm-colored, and richly war- 

 bling birds, birds of paradise, dainty-footed, downy-clad, 

 in the midst of a New England, a Canadian winter. 

 The woods and fields, now somewhat solitary, being de- 

 serted by their more tender summer residents, are now 

 frequented by these rich but delicately tinted and hardy 

 northern immigrants of the air. Here is no imperfection 

 to be suggested. The winter, with its snow and ice, is 

 not an evil to be corrected. It is as it was designed and 

 made to be, for the artist has had leisure to add beauty 

 to use. My acquaintances, angels from the north. I had 

 a vision thus prospectively of these birds as I stood in 

 the swamps. I saw this familiar — too familiar — fact 

 at a different angle, and I was charmed and haunted by 

 it. But I could only attain to be thrilled and enchanted, 

 as by the sound of a strain of music dying away. I had 

 seen into paradisaic regions, with their air and sky, and 

 I was no longer wholly or merely a denizen of this vulgar 

 earth. Yet had I hardly a foothold there. I was only 

 sure that I was charmed, and no mistake. It is only 



