appear everywhere. I never remember feeling so intimately how bounteous a mother is this fair earthy yielding such plenteous store of food to her children, and this food in its growth so beautiful to look on. How full of gratitude and love for the Creator does the beauty of the creation make us! By a sort of slovenly reasoning, we tell ourselves that, since we are born, sustenance is our due; but that all beyond—the beauty of the world, and the sensations of transport it imparts, springs from the immeasurable goodness of our Maker. True we were also created to experience those emotions, God has not reduced our dwelling-place—as Puritans would his—to a bare meeting-house; all there is radiant in glorious colours; all imparts supreme felicity to the senses and the heart. Next to the consciousness of right and honour, God has shown that he loves best beauty and the sense of beauty, since he has endowed the visible universe so richly with the one, and made the other so keen and deep-seated an enjoyment in the hearts of his creatures.
We passed through Chalons-sur-Marne, Clermont, and Verdun. The corn-fields, the vineyards clothing the uplands, the woods that varied the landscape, and the meandering river that gave it light and life, were all in their fairest summer dress. Plenty and peace brooded over a happy land. From a traveller
