blankets; in silks, satins and shells; in "tights," and flounces, and feathers and flannels; life full dressed and in dishabille; life knocking from the centre of fallen logs; knocking from the other side of shells white and blue, and mottled and dappled; and June is

"The delegated voice of God,"

to bid them "come in, come up, come down, come out," and be, and do, and suffer; conjugating and inflecting the great active verb-"LIVE."

Go"

Turn over the loam in the fields, and you turn out turtle's eggs by the score. across lots" to the neighbor's, and you find the pearly treasures of the whistling quail by the dozen. Tap a sand-hill lightly, with the toe of your boot, and you will see the ladies to whom Solomon referred sluggards, by the myriad. Shake a bush, and you shake out a bird, or a peep, o,' a bug, or a bud, or something that's "all alive.” Pluck a leaf, and you may find on it a crystal drop such as one might dream Queen Mab would shed if “in the melting mood;" but the sun shall "set" ov it a few days, and out will come a thing all legs, o. wings, or stings-something to hum or drum-to fly or creep, or crawl; something to be something and some body, and count just as many in the great census

of Creation, as he who called the shades of Ashland his, or she who journeyed, of old, to see Solomoncount just as many," in words and figures following," to-wit: (1) one.

Mystery.

"THINGS are working" these June days. Things? Wonders withal. Why, quiet as it is here to-day, with nothing but green and blue in sight-the fields, the woods, and the sky-and not a sound of carpentry, save the incessant hammering upon tree-trunks, of worthies in red caps, there is more going on than one would dream of between the third call and breakfast-time; things that Silliman couldn't do, nor Davy, nor Liebig.

Do you see that cherry tree? Every one of four bushels upon it. There's a ripe one. Use your "pickers and stealers," and pluck it. A cherry-red, ripe and rich. Fragrance and flavor done up in a red wrapper.

Set your cunning men that conjure with crucibles, to make one, and you "set" them of a surety. Depend upon them, and you might, and you would

"make two bites of a cherry." Yet on that modest tree, "out of doors," that article was manufactured No furnace sighing from morning till night-no workmen in white aprons—no sugar crushed, refined, snowy-no flour superfine-no vermilion in pot or powder-no parade, no bustle; but there they are, "chierry ripe!"

Winter's cold fingers were lifted from the pulses of the tree, and they throbbed full and strong. Pumps in the earth below, were rigged and manned. Signals were silently set in bud and blossom aloft. Winds came, and swung the branches, and peeped into this and that, and went away. Birds came and looked about, and saw nothing, and went too. Unseen hands were gathering, and moulding, and refining all the while. The sun came up from the Tropic of Capricorn, and looked on-nothing more. The clouds went dripping by, and never stopped, and that was all. ED., or SILAS, or some body, planted a cherry stone, four or five years ago, and forgot it; but the

whip" of a tree went right on, and without any help that we can see, set up business, and manufac tured Nature's confectionary, all by itself. Last week the cherries were green-now they are tinted with red; not a brush lying about, not a stained finger

visible. No advertisements in the newspapers, of "Painting done here;" no "Apprentices wanted," for Nature's hands are all journeymen; not a leaf with a capital or an exclamation point on it. Ah! that May Duke" belongs to the Royal Family ofNature.

Pumpkins and Enterprise.

LAST summer, I remember, a little vine—a Pumpkin vine-came out of the ground in a cornfield, 'up the road,' and there it was, in the midst of the corn unseeing and unseen. So there was nothing for it, but to make the best of its way out to the fence that bounded the road, some eighteen or twenty feet distant, where there would be some prospect of its being appreciated, if it could. Could? But it did, for away it went, vine and leaves, baggage and all, through the corn, this way and that, out to the fence, and up the fence, three rails, and through the fence. And what do you think it did then? Just unravelled a delicate yellow blossom, and held it there, for every one passing to see, saying all the time, as well as it could-and it could as well as any body—" It's me

See what I've done this! Isn't it pretty?" Well there it held it, and every body saw it, and no body thought any thing about it.

Passing that way in the Fall, lo! a PUMPKIN, rotund, golden, magnificent, held out at arm's length by the little vine; held in the air-held week after week, and never laid down, nights, nor Sundays, nor any time.

Now, man your brakes"-rig your levers, ye Archimedes-es, and pump up from the earth, and along that vine, and from the surrounding air, the raw material for just such another article as that, and you shall have two summers to do it in. Bring on the Alembic, wherein shall be distilled from the falling rain, the essence of Pumpkin, and we'll let it go without painting.

Death.

THE world is curved round about with Heaven, and Heaven never seems nearer than in June. Its great blue rafters bend low on every hand, and how one can get out of the world, without getting into Heaven, is to us a physical mystery.