100
life, where we can breathe freely, and we cannot but think with the agreeable author of "Life in the Woods," that one degenerates without frequent communion with Nature. "A single tree," says he, "standing alone, and waving all day long its green crown in the summer wind, is to me more full of meaning and instruction than the crowded mart or the gorgeously built town." Many is the happy hour we have whiled away here, half dreamy quiet thoughts stealing over us as the stream glided onwards, until the setting sun and—
"The flitting
Of divers moths, that aye their rest are quitting."
reminded us that we had many miles to go before reaching our destination. These were happy days indeed, on which we look back with pleasure not unmingled with sadness, for whose dreams are ever realised?
The higher up the "reedy stream" we go, the more beauties are unfolded to us; the Dog Rocks at Batesford of themselves will well repay the visitor, and the Geologist may load himself with fossils from them, and in every little indentation in the mud made by the footsteps of cattle by the river side, look well out for, (and bottle when found,) specimens of Desmidiæ and Diatomaceæ, which they generally contain. Were it not for the horror we in conjunction with others entertain of the Mosquito tribe, we would say have some in the Aquarium, for in their various stages they are interesting creatures,—in the larva state, having their heads always downwards, and their tails which are provided with a fan-like apparatus serving in some
