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great cities tend to loosen> and, in extreme cases, to destroy , the tranquil 
feeling of home and build the household of luxury on the ruins. 
With the poet, therefore, we may say: 
“Whilst this hard truth I teach, methinks I see 
The monster City* laugh at me; 
I should at thee , too , foolish city, 
If it were fit to laugh at misery; 
But thy estate I pity.” 
— Cowley. 
Rustic Scenes. 
BY W. J. MCCLURE. 
Queen Nature, with inviting grace, 
Holds court ’mid rustic scenes. 
And there, while glows her Summer-face, 
Sweet odors rise, and fill the place, 
And joy the spirit gleans. 
Oh, cheering time of birds and flowers! 
When winds no longer moan; 
Sojourning ’mong deep-shaded bowers, 
The moments glide to blithesome hours. 
And bright is Nature’s throne. 
Proud summits, clothed in robes of green, 
With rocks and forests high, 
Rear, in magnificence terrene; 
While foliage forms a grateful screen 
Against the burning sky. 
The plains, with grass-tops dipped in dew, 
Where cattle freely roam, 
Are decked with flowers of every hue 
That ’neath the firmament of blue 
Adorn the farmer’s home. 
•Loudon. 
