varez, somewhat sadly. "You have known sadness, then?" she continued.
"Yes," I answered; "and I can safely say that there are few individuals of the nations, great and small (at least, the civilized ones), in the other parts of the world, who, attaining anything approaching a ripe age, have not experienced hours, nay, even days, of bitterness of soul."
"To what is this unfortunate condition of affairs to be ascribed?" she asked.
"In some of the warm countries of the world," I answered, "the enervating effect of climate on the human body is of itself sufficient to produce a feeling of melancholy. But to this in many instances must be added fixed residence in low-lying level tracts, where the conditions of life are as monotonous as the surface of the country; and worse than all, in our large cities, tens of thousands of human beings have such limited spaces for their homes, which are often situated in extremely unhealthy localities, that disease is fostered and life shortened."
"You are fast annihilating my dreams of other lands," she interjected.
"On the other hand," I said, "there are regions where the people, surrounded by the abundant gifts of Nature, have ease, comfort, and enjoyment.
