ays
in cities; if we would enjoy them we must go into the country--we must
seek them in peaceful valleys, in fragrant forests, where the silence is
unbroken, except by the fluttering leaves and the singing of birds. We
must understand the eloquent silence of Nature in order to enjoy the
holy Sabbath quiet of a summer day; and we must be able to hear the
language which the flowers breathe forth, to understand the sighing of
the wind, and the rustling of the trees.

Very few can do this, but few would care for it. God has not opened the
eyes of the hearts of many of us to this extent; these things are hidden
by a thick veil from the many; they cannot see the heavenly beauty of
Nature--they do not understand the fairy tale which she is ever telling.
This is gentle, idyllic, fairy lore, unsought by the learned. It
whispers of roses, of dancing elves, of weeping clouds, of dreaming
violets.

Happy are those who listen to these fables, who are not called by the
necessities of life to hear the roar of cannon--to find all these
sweet and holy songs overpowered by the noise of war, the horrors of
bloodshed!

War, destructive war, still held a lighted torch over unhappy Germany;
cities and villages were in ruins--even the peace of Nature was
destroyed. The valleys, usually so quiet, now often resounded with the
roar of cannon. The fields remained uncultivated, the meadows uncared
for; there were no strong hands to work. The men and youths were gone,
only the old graybeards and the women were in the villages, and the work
advanced but slowly under their trembling hands. Unhappiness and want,
care and sorrow were in the land.

Even in the once peaceful and happy village of Brunen on the Rhine,
misery had made itself felt. Grief and anguish dwelt with the bereaved
mothers, with the forsaken brides, and the weak old men; with the
useless cripples, who had returned from the war, and who spent their
time in relating the dangers through which they had passed, in telling
of the sons, the brothers, the husbands, and the fathers of those
who listened to their tales--those dear ones who were, perhaps, now
stretched upon the battle-field.

But on this bright day no one in the village gave a thought to the
beauties of Nature, for a new misfortune weighed heavily upon the hearts
of the unhappy inhabitants. They were no longer the subjects of the
hero-king, who was so worshipped by all; under whose colors their
fathers and sons still fou