to invite the busy crowd of care-worn citizens to leave the town's dull smoke,—to forget for a while their ponderous ledgers, and to go forth into the fields to sympathize with the spirit of loveliness which is abroad in all the land. Would this be waste or improvement of time? Let Wordsworth reply:—
"Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her. 'Tis her privilege,
Through ail the years of this our life, to lead
From joy to joy; for she can so inform
The mind that is within us, so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men,
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary intercourse of common life,
Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb
Our cheerful faith that all that we behold
Is full of blessings."
And again,
"Therefore, let the moon
Shine on thee in thy solitary walk,
And let the misty mountain winds be free
To blow against thee; and, in after-years,
When these wild ecstasies shall be matured
Into a sober pleasure, when thy mind
Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms,
Thy memory be a dwelling-place
For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then,
If solitude or fear or pain or grief
Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts
Of tender joy wilt thou remember nature,
And these her benedictions!"
I do not know that a more delightful task could be assigned to any one, than that of observing the vegetation of this vicinity. Among our plants are many of great interest and beauty; and certainly nothing can be more fraught with instruction and delight than occasional visits to the charming localities in which they grow. Who is there that has ever pursued this branch of natural history, that does not recollect the many scenes of rural beauty and loveliness into which it has led him? How often, when gathering his floral treasures, has he not paused to admire the silent and sylvan
