46 
cicada, dying away into an exquisitely pro- 
longed and dreamful cadence, alone disturbed 
the drowsy spirit of solitude reposing on mossy 
banks; the mystical and dream-engendering 
glory of summer clouds looming serenely in 
voluminous and placid mounds of amber above 
the green ocean of evening woods, with the 
waning splendor of sunset deepening into pur- 
ple dusk, and the silvery voice of the hermit- 
thrush sanctifying the twilight hours till ‘the 
place became religion,” imbuing my spirit with 
a lofty veneration for the Supreme Power whose 
superior intelligence alone conceived these 
spiritual and soul-appealing tokens ; by whose 
listening ear the cricket’s melody is timed, and 
who walketh the floors of the midnight on an 
air-woven carpet spangled with worlds. 
My statement previously ventured, investing 
Lorene with romantic propensities, may appear 
somewhat extravagant, but is by no means an 
idle fancy. The expression of her countenance 
‘was unusually handsome and intelligent, and 
her soft brown eyes were characterized by that 
dreamy pensiveness peculiar to impressible 
natures, while her delicate and exquisitely- 
proportioned form was cast in what artists 
would term a classic mould. She abhorred 
the bustle and confusion of the town, and fre- 
quently, when her artful and coaxing blandish- 
ments failed to lure her master to the woods or 
fields for an evening ramble, she would sally 
forth alone, returning at late twilight with her 
silken ringlets.drenched with dew. During a 
tempest she loved to sit by a window intently 
watching the tossing trees outside and listen- 
ing to the wild music of the pattering rain. On 
summer nights her favorite place of repose was 
in her awn hammock, swung low beneath the 
maples, with moonbeams quivering among the 
boughs, and where whippoorwills and katydids 
kept up their sweetly weird and unceasing 
serenade. 
Lorene’s aristocratic nature was perceptible 
in many ways. She was a dainty feeder, and, 
although of a gentle and tender disposition and 
deeply imbued witha love of Nature, she was not 
Brahminical, and her menu consisted largely 
of meats; but she was passionately fond of all 
the various fruits of the season, and, when 
berries or grapes were not forthcoming, she 
NATURE'S REALM. 
would occasionally regale herself on the choicest 
specimens of snow apples selected from among 
the windfalis in the orchard. With dogs, 
“mongrel, puppy, whelp and hound, and 
curs of low degree,” Lorene attempted no fa- 
miliarity beyond a mere friendly recognition— 
a bowing acquaintance, so to speak; and, with 
the exception of a handsome Maltese cat, who 
was both by blood and complexion decidedly 
blue, her attachments were mainly confined to 
the human family. 
It requires no depth of reflection to perceive 
that, had Lorene, with her refined and delicate 
sensibilities, her gentle andsympathetic nature, 
been possessed of human attributes, she would 
have been what the world denominates a 
dreamer. But what ofthat? Is not the great 
fabric of human achievement spun and woven 
from the loom of dreams? Sure am I withal 
that, had her quiet habits of observation, her 
quick sense ot beauty, been combined with the 
facuity of reason, she would have mourned 
over the desolation being wrought by that un- 
restrained and ruthless spirit of vandalism so 
characteristic of the present century, and 
which, with an unfeeling recklessness, is pros- 
trating the majestic forests and robbing the 
hillsides of their crowning glory, thus disfig- 
uring the face of our fair land and reversing 
the climatic conditions of Nature, to the great 
detriment of mankind—the same spirit of van- 
dalisin that has strewn the western plains with 
millions of buffalo, leaving the carcasses to the 
sport of the wind and wolves, and in conse- 
quence of which to-day the appealing plaint of 
an impoverished nation is heard invoking the 
advent of a Messiah to lead them Moses-like 
from their destitution and their misery, and to 
restore to them the bounteous heritage of an- 
cient power. 
Often on beholding Lorene the central figure 
in a bevy of delighted children, when the us- 
ually sober and languid gravity of her manner 
had relaxed into a spirit of playfulness, have I 
regretted that she was not in truth a rational 
creature, for then she could have regaled her 
juvenile friends with many a winsome story 
gathered from her woodland rambles—of the 
hornet’s nest among the raspberry vines which 
she had so inadvertently brushed against, and 
. 
