“human understanding, her keenly susceptible 
organization would likewise have responded 
zolian-like to the witching and heart-consoling 
influences of poetry and music, and, in the face 
of an unnatural and hostile philosophy, she 
would have dared to cherish and protect the 
winsome darlings—those radiant and charmful 
daughters of Heaven who place the world’s 
misgivings and doubts in the cradle of dreams 
and rock them hopefully and tenderly to sleep. 
The peaceful tenor of Lorene’s existence, 
covering a period of five years, was broken 
only by the cloud of bereavement occasioned 
by an eight months’ separation from her mas- 
ter. Arriving home one balmy May morning 
from my position on the frontier, whither I had 
been recalled the previous September, I came 
suddenly upon Lorene lying on the grass be- 
neath an apple tree at the farthest end of the 
orchard, where she had long been accustomed 
to await my return trips from the village. 
Unmindful of her presence, the ever-confiding 
robins were tilting about in close proximity, 
but a pair of suspicious blue jays hovering 
among the blossomed limbs were pouring forth 
a torrent of scolding imprecations on the 
bundle of sleeping innocence beiow. 
My approach had Eeen unobserved by Lor- 
ene, and the shock of glad surprise occasioned 
by my abrupt appearance on the scene appar- 
ently transfixed her to the spot, till, in response 
to the familiar sound of the call whistle, the 
affectionate creature sprang to her feet, and, 
struggling precipitately through a convenient 
aperture in the fence, she advanced crouch- 
ingly and tremblingly to my side. There was 
a human suggestiveness in the expression of 
her countenance as she approached, and her 
soft and eloquent eyes seemed to melt in their 
eager, yet half uncertain intensity; but at the 
mere mention of her name all doubts vanished, 
and, apparently impelled by a sudden and un- 
controllable ebullition of ecstacy, she bounded 
away like a meteor in the direction of the 
house, where, after loud rejoicings through 
parlor and hall, to the great dismay of mother, 
she scampered back to the presence of her 
master, and, darting frantically around him in 
a circle until completely exhausted, she sank 
panting at his feet. 
“"? 48 NATURE'S REALM. 
One night, a week following my arrival, 
Lorene reposed by my side on a couch of 
blankets spread upon the banks of a forest- 
bound and pickerel-haunted lake, situated near 
the beautiful Cedar River—so near, indeed, that 
our ears could catch the sound of its rhythmic 
volume, the while its loitering waters dallied 
with the guardian banks or whispered their 
romantic legends to the constant stars. The 
quiet loneliness of my surroundings was 
singularly congenial, but in striking contrast 
to that of the untamed wilderness which [ had 
so lately quitted. No shrill neighing and 
thunderous tread of stampeded pony herds dis- 
turbed the sober serenity of my reflections ; no. 
plumed and painted Indians danced and 
shouted to the rude music of a tom-tom in the 
lurid glare of diminutive bonfires ; no women 
mourned on the hills ; no wolves howled, but, 
instead, the witching spirit of silence was. 
broken by no harsher sound than the soft re- 
frain of the whippoorwills, the weird nocturne 
of the frogs in their bullrush beds, and the 
dreamful monotone of the incoming waves. 
laving with musical murmurs the long stretches. 
of pebbled shores. Among the myriads of 
gleaming constellations which sparkled in the 
vaulted space above was the ruddy face of 
Mars, a luminary in respect to which the re- 
cent perusal of a thoughtful and attractive ar- 
ticle from the pen of that engaging writer, 
Camille Flammarion, had impressed me _ with. 
an interest curious and profound. Can it be, I 
mused, that that far distant sphere, that scin- 
tillating jewel in the crown of night, is peopled 
with intelligent beings like ourselves? Do 
populous cities there rear their lofty spires and 
domes toward a sky as blue and loving as our 
own? Do stately vessels ride at anchor in its 
harbors and bear their merchandise from port 
to port? Do the winters heap their drifting 
snows and blooming summers toss their wealth 
of roses with the same unfailing order as those 
of earth? Is the sacred calm of its twilight . 
broken by the solemn harmony of cathedral 
bells, and does the blessed sunlight of day 
stream through the oriel windows and fall in 
painted shadows on the sculptured forms of 
saints and kneeling angels there? Do the 
midnignt winds grieve among the boughs of 
