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BIRDS has entered upon a new year with the satisfaction of having pleased its readers as well as having rendered actual service to the cause of education, ornithological literature and art. Nature with her usual prodigality has scattered thousands of rare and attractive birds throughout the world, and of these the editor of BIRDS selects the most interesting species, the loveliest forms and the richest plumage for preservation by means of magnificent illustrations, obtained through the expensive process of color photography. A unique treatment of text makes the magazine interesting and instructive to old and young alike. The people of this locality are noted for being lovers of birds and students of nature, and it has given the three greatest naturalists the world has ever known. This is the native heath of Audubon and Robert Date Owen. Mr. S. G. Evans, the well-known dry goods merchant of this city, has a very fine and complete set of Audubon's birds. All this fills our eyes to think what the world lost in the death of William Hamilton Gibson. He made all life seem related to our lives, all being to appear one substance, all to be worthy of interest, sympathy, love, and reverence. |
There are strange and beautiful stories told of his power to attract and handle the shyest creatures. Once, it is said, he went to a public library in Brooklyn to make a sketch of some rare butterfly, and had found a book of plates from which he was studying his subject, when, to! there floated into the great room one of the very specimens he desired to picture, fluttered down upon the open page, and at last rested with throbbing wings beside its own portrait. On one election day, Mr. Gibson went to vote, and as he was studying his ticket, there came in at the open door, no one knew whence, astray pigeon, which flew at once to him and perched upon his shoulder. He caressed it in his tender fashion, and murmured to it, and then it flew away, no one knew whither. Once, too, as he sat upon his veranda at The Sumacs, his country home in Connecticut, describing to a visitor the peculiar markings upon the wings of a certain song-bird, he suddenly arose, stepped to a bush upon the lawn, and coaxed into his hand the very bird of which he was talking, and which he brought to show to his astonished guest. This sympathy with the world of life outside of man fills his text and his illustrations to overflowing. Evansville (Ind.) Courier. |
And rounds with rhyme her every rune, Whether she work in land or sea, Or hide underground her alchemy. Thou canst not wave thy staff in air, Or dip thy paddle in the lake, But it carves the bow of beauty there, And the ripples in rhymes the oar forsake. The wood is wiser far than thou; The wood and wave each other know. Not unrelated, unaffied, But to each thought and thing allied, Is perfect Nature's every part, Rooted in the mighty heart. Emerson. |
We thank thee for thy wise design, Whereby these human hands of ours In Nature's garden work with thine. And thanks that from our daily need The joy of a simple faith is born. That he who smites the summer weed May trust thee for the autumn corn. Give fools their gold and knaves their power, Let fortune's bubbles rise and fall, Who sows a field or trains a flower Or plants a tree is more than all. For he who blesses most is blest, And God and man shall have his worth Who toils to leave as a bequest An added beauty to the earth. Whittier. |