re rayonnante, magnifique, superbe ... a quelque
chose d'accablant."[1]

This seems to me, I confess, a morbid view. There are many no doubt on
whom the effect of natural beauty is to intensify feeling, to deepen
melancholy, as well as to raise the spirits. As Mrs. W. R. Greg in her
memoir of her husband tells us: "His passionate love for nature, so
amply fed by the beauty of the scenes around him, intensified the
emotions, as all keen perception of beauty does, but it did not add to
their joyousness. We speak of the pleasure which nature and art and
music give us; what we really mean is that our whole being is quickened
by the uplifting of the veil. Something passes into us which makes our
sorrows more sorrowful, our joys more joyful,--our whole life more
vivid. So it was with him. The long solitary wanderings over the hills,
and the beautiful moonlight nights on the lake served to make the
shadows seem darker that were brooding over his home."

But surely to most of us Nature when sombre, or even gloomy, is soothing
and consoling; when bright and beautiful, not only raises the spirits,
but inspires and elevates our whole being--

Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege,
Through all the years of this our life, to lead
From joy to joy: for she can so inform
The mind that is within us, so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men,
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary intercourse of daily life,
Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb
Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold
Is full of blessings.[2]

Kingsley speaks with enthusiasm of the heaths and moors round his home,
"where I have so long enjoyed the wonders of nature; never, I can
honestly say, alone; because when man was not with me, I had companions
in every bee, and flower and pebble; and never idle, because I could not
pass a swamp, or a tuft of heather, without finding in it a fairy tale
of which I could but decipher here and there a line or two, and yet
found them more interesting than all the books, save one, which were
ever written upon earth."

Those who love Nature can never be dull. They may have other
temptations; but at least they will run no risk of being beguiled, by
ennui, idleness, or want of occupation, "to buy the merry madness of an