whether we gratify our present desires, or aim at those which enlighten the end-whether we indulge in indolence and vulgar pleasure, or listen to the silent monitor that urges our ambition to praiseworthy objects. Whatever may be our profession or education; whatever our advantages or success; and whatever our speculations or enjoyments, without the one point essential-the Christian faith and practice, to govern our actions and balance our thoughts-the summer of our lives will be an unfruitful season, uncheered by the rays of a well-grounded hope, and unprotected from the assaults of sin.

Turn but to nature, and observe the blessings which God has obviously provided for us: let us wander from the forest to the field, from the field to the garden, and from the garden to the heart; to watch the elegant process of a summer's production. What views shall we take of its plenitude? what ideas can we form of its beauty and sublimity, which we associate with manhood; but to tranquilize the mind, and temper the organs to admiration; to preserve health, and invigorate the sensual faculties; and to exalt the soul to an intimate alliance with its Omnipotent Creator.

Let us first enter the forest, where the foliage stands forth dressed in its richest hues of lovely verdure; where the scented wild flowers put on a

glow of their richest colours, and where no curious or mis-shapen root is seated, but what now boasts of a beautiful appearance. Here Nature mysteriously unfolds her various charms; majestic oaks are clothed in their new annual attire; and without order or regularity, the dark green firs, the deep embowering elms, and shining poplars, rustle in the air, and tell more forcibly than language, the soft whispers of a summer's breeze. Here is no triumph of skill or industry, no human eye or power of art has added to its romantic beauty; and none but nature scooped its seat, and formed its shady bowers. If we look upward we catch the celestial radiance of the azure heavens canopying the umbrageous tapestry, or flinging a volley of sunbeams over a patch of bright sward ; while surrounding nooks lie buried under heaps of mouldering fragments, at once desolate, grand, and picturesque.

Innumerable sweet voices attract our notice, but there is a melody ringing through the woods which puts to silence all other garrulous intruders :—it is the nightingale's full concert. There is such a wildness, variety, and mellowness in her sonorous note, that as we listen to her song, the heart seems for ever unwearied; and while she occasionally pauses, we associate her silence with our impressions of that beautiful passage in "Il

Penseroso," so sweetly representing her plaintive melancholy.

"Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly,

Most musical, most melancholy,

Thee, chantress, oft the woods among

I woo to hear thy evening song."

Lulled by this repose, or sauntering through the mazy forest in the glowing ardour of the summer, the imagination kindles in the midst of so enchanting a view of nature, and our thoughts are exercised on subjects which interest us more than either the season or the scene. Here we muse on the fate of our fellow-creatures, and contrast the cultivated mind with the wilds of human and material nature:-we rejoice that the ray of religion has already enlightened the ignorant and superstitious; and that the dawn of immortality is fast finding its way over extensive plains and untracked deserts, hitherto darkened by the clouds of heathenism and barbarity.

"To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell,
To slowly trace the forest's shady scene,
Where wings that own not man's dominion dwell,
And mortal foot hath ne'er, or rarely been;
To climb the trackless mountain all unseen,
With the wild flock that never needs a fold;

Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean;

This is not Solitude; 'tis but to hold

Converse with Nature's charms, and see her stores unroll'd.

But, midst the crowd, the hum, the snock or men,
To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,

And roam along, the world's tired denizen,

With none who bless us, none whom we can bless:
Minions of splendour shrinking from distress;
None that, with kindred consciousness endued,
If we were not, would seem to smile the less
Of all that flatter'd, follow'd, sought and sued ;
This is to be alone; this, this is Solitude!"

There are some persons in the world, the antipodes of genius, whose senses are as stationary instruments turned from profitable reflection; their thoughts never deviate from the common road, their passions are stagnant, and their observations as uniform as if they were the consequence of instinct. Among this class of individuals, there are many who together with health enjoy the greatest equanimity; but very seldom among these will be found a true lover of nature, because the same apathy which is the least liable to endanger or misguide them, retards them from moralizing upon the ample productions of nature. And it may be observed, that men of genuis, from whom we expect the most discretion, and who have talents for rendering the greatest service both to nature and themselves, often prevent the acceleration of knowledge by eccentricities and fancies, which are their greatest impediments. There requires but little to convince us that the grand measures for instruction are almost wholly

dependant upon our own judgment and observation, whenever we turn our acute perceptions to proper account, and prepare the mind for receiving with facility and pleasure the useful results of them. Such should be our reflections on visiting the fields during the progress of summer, when there is not only the most to observe, but several important agencies in full operation.

"The glowing morning, crown'd with youthful roses,
Bursts on the world in virgin sweetness smiling,
And as she treads, the waking flowers expand,
Shaking their dewy tresses. Nature's choir
Of untaught minstrels blend their various powers
In one grand anthem, emulous to salute
The approaching king of day, and vernal hope
Jocund trips forth to meet the healthful breeze,
To mark th' expanding bud, the kindling sky,
And join the general pæan."

Gaze on the prospect around! what can be more fascinating to the eye or to the feelings, than the rural enjoyments of this festive season. As the flowery moving grass waves lightly in the verdant pastures, we watch the joyous groups assembled in the hayfield, eager to catch every moment of sunshine to complete their merry labours. And while the pageantry of summer lasts, their delighted little ones enjoy the beautiful fragrance of the open fields, which are now decorated with the fairest and sweetest wild flowers.

Every department of nature we now examine