rowing, cheer to the despondent, and a sense of comfort and gratification to all. The angry man becomes quiet in his presence; the rude man, civil; the overburthened man stronger to uplift himself beneath his burthens; the timid man confident; the humble man reassured of his claim to equality with his brother-man; and the criminal feels a foreshadowing of God's mercy to the penitent.

"The spirit of God brooded over the face of the waters." The spirit of man should so brood over the waters of social life, as to bring out of them peace, order, beauty and harmony. He should never wake a discordant tone in the heart of a fellow-being. He should never disappoint him of a fraternal recognition. He should never smite his spirit, and wound him with words sharper than a two-edged sword; or use a tone and manner, the effect of which is much like that of a slap in the face. The one indignity would not be greater than the other. This is quite as likely to be done without provocation as with it, by those who do not recognize the claims of human brotherhood. Remember, always, that whoso does any of these things to the man, does them to his great Master.

CHAPTER VI.

THE LOVE OF NATURE.

Most of you will remember one or more delightful excursions that we have taken together to see the beautiful scenery, both in the northern and southern part of Berkshire county, and what a gay, happy party we always made. It is a great blessing to live in the midst of beautiful scenery from which one can have daily draughts of refreshment to the soul, and find pleasant by-paths from the dusty highway of life; and it is delightful sometimes to go in search of what is lovely and grand in nature, that is beyond our own surroundings. Pursuit has a charm of its own that it superadds to every object pursued. It is well to enrich, as much as possible, the picture gallery of the memory. There is, besides, great benefit to mind and body, in occasional change of air, of scene, and of occupation.

From an early period in my life as teacher, I have had the habit of taking my pupils on an excursion at some distance, once every summer. The failure to do so has been a rare exception;

and I have given them opportunities to become familiar with the high places of nature in our own vicinity, made for the purest worship, and with all her most attractive resorts and hiding-places.

I have been led to believe that, generally, the love of nature, like every other principle of the human mind, although it exists, requires cultivation for its development-I mean in a majority of instances. In some, it is so strong and vigorous, that it expands of itself. To be without it, is a great misfortune, for it is in fact, to be blind, in a most important sense-blind to the glory and beauty of God's wonderful works, to all he has made that can fill the soul with rapture, through the mere seeing of the eye; deaf to ten thousand voices that she utters continually to man-quickening in him what is best and highest in his nature, and helping to spiritualize it; and incapable of a communion through nature, with nature's God-with whom it is desirable that his creatures should be put by every possible means, in conscious perceptible relation. It having been, therefore, my study to cultivate it in my pupils, I have considered all our excursions near and distant, as a part of this training; and I have seen its effect even upon our drivers, who have driven us frequently. They would often of their own accord, point out beautiful scenes and objects.

I had one pupil with me, for three years, I

think, a young girl, who disclaimed all love of nature; and I believe she was quite sincere, in saying, that no matter what scenery might be in view from the windows of a room, she had as lief look inside, as outside of it. On our excursions, she liked very much the release from school, the freedom, the gaiety, and the fun; but the route was quite indifferent to her. On her third visit to Bashpish Falls, however, her sudden "conversion" took place in this wise. After a night through which the rain poured incessantly, we awoke to a gloriously bright morning, which we hailed with acclamations-such as the Persians may be supposed to have used, when greeting the rising sun, on his great festival day—and set off for the Falls, about eight o'clock, by a road which leads down the mountain from Milo Smith's, to a part of Hillsdale. This road is not often taken, because there is one much shorter, that leads directly to the Falls; but it is a great pity to forego, on that account, what it offers. At a very sudden sharp turn in it, you come upon a "valley of vision" indeed, "stretching" far and wide "to where the sky stoops" over it, upon a wall of rich, grain-covered mountains, themselves surmounted by the blue ethereal peaks of the Catskills. On this morning, the valley was flecked all over with patches of the rising mist, not so as to obscure it, but to add to its enchantment, as a veil,

partially lifted, enhances that of a beautiful face. Fourteen of us were in the dear old open omnibus. A simultaneous exclamation of delight rose, like a shout, from all-and Julia's enthusiasm seemed quite equal to that of the rest. "Ah, Julia!" I said," you are caught, at last!" and from that moment, her love of nature has been a perpetually increasing fountain of delight to her. If, therefore, you have what is called a family school, I advise you not to overlook this department of education, and I advise all mothers to give it due attention.

I once sat by a brook with a very little child, who listened intently for a little time, and then said, in a soft, sweet voice: "Mother, I love to hear the pretty water." Another little child, standing by the window at sunset, and listening to the wind, said: "Mother, what does the wind say to me?" She knew already that it had a language. There are a thousand pretty sayings of children about the moon and the stars. Perhaps one of the prettiest fancies was that of a child, who thought the stars were "gimlet-holes, to let the glory through." As in the infancy of the world, men are supposed to have had communion with God and the angels, which was afterwards lost; so in the infancy of man's being, he often possesses a consciousness of Nature's presence, and a relationship with her, which passes away, as he