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THE WORLD, now-a-days, live too much " in the house :" souls grow angular as the apartments they dwell in, and come, like them, to have parlors and pantries, closets and coal-holes; views take color from the windows they are seen through ; muffled thoughts in listed slippers, walk on carpets, and the firm, free footfall
the bare floors of this great caravansary, are not to be heard “ by ears polite.”
Sunlight, in-doors, is a nun and enters veiled; or it is a “grocery," poured from a tin can; or a chemical, conducted in an iron tube. The air, in-doors, must needs be beaten with fans, into a mockery of motion, and music, immured in rosewood and mahogany, is manumitted at intervals, by ivory fingers with ivory keys.
Whoever has time to look and listen, need only go out of doors, to wonder and be charmed. On any “quarter section ” in the world, may be seen and heard, the alphabet of almost all thought, and the utterances of almost all tongues. This is not a discovery; oh, no! but only a wreath of vapor to the “cloud of witnesses” that have already testified.
THE pulses of great Nature never beat more audibly and musically than just about " the leafy month of June :" life, every where life, in field and flood, in earth, and air, and sky. Life in all forms: life with a sweet breath in it, life with a song in it, life with a light in it. Life tied up in little bags of most Quakerish-looking silk, by that sly spinner, the spider ; life done up in gray bundles, and hung upon apple trees; deposited in little brown paper cups, or packed away in little clay cells, by gentry in yellow jackets, and gentry with delicate waists, whose only foible consists in their not being, always and altogether, like Job and Moses ; life hidden in the hearts