makest the righteous to feel the sweet and salutary effects of thy grace: Thou givest to the bee its nectar in the flowers; to the worm a drop to quench its thirst; to the world the rays of the sun. O thou who possessest sovereign felicity, and dost not disdain to communicate happiness to the poorest insect, which could not exist a moment but by thy will; permit me to raise to thee a new hymn, and deign to accept my weak lays! Penetrated with joy and gratitude, I will sing to thy name, magnify thy goodness, and pay thee due adoration, praise, and glory." APRIL XXVI. FLOWERS OF THE MONTH OF APRIL. THE nearer we approach that charming month, which presents to us the country, the fields, and gardens, in full beauty, the more we see the wild and melancholy appearance of nature wear off. Each day brings forth some new creation. Each day, nature draws nearer to perfection. Already the grass begins to shoot, and the sheep run eagerly to feed. The corn begins to appear in the meadows, and the gardens become cheerful and pleasant. Some flowers show themselves here and there, and invite the florist to observe them. The sweet and modest violet is one of the first productions of spring. smell is so much the more agreeable, as we have been so long deprived of those delightful perfumes. The beautiful hyacinth rises insensibly in the midst of its leaves, and shews its little flowers,, м б Its flowers, which equally delight the sight and smell. The imperial crown-flower casts around it a multitude of starry leaves. Its stalk rises high, and its red and yellow blossom, shaped like a bell, and inclining towards the earth, forms a sort of crown, with a tuft of leaves at the top. From the midst of its leaves the auricula raises its flower, which imitates the richness of satin and velvet. Its elegant form and sweet perfume make amends for its want of stature. The tulip comes out more slowly. It does not yet venture to open, because the night air, or cold rains, might spoil the beauty of its colours. The ranunculus, the pink, and the rose, do not blow, till milder days allow them to appear in full beauty. An attentive observer will find in this many reasons to admire the wisdom and goodness of his Creator. It is for very wise purposes, that, at the return of spring, each plant begins, precisely in the time and the order prescribed to it, to open its leaves and blossoms, and to prepare every thing for the production of its fruits. There is a constant succession of vegetables from the beginning to the end of the year. Some are scarce visible, when others prepare to appear; and those are followed by several hundreds of others, which spring up, each in its turn, and at the appointed time. Whilst the fruit of one plant is ripening, nature prompts another to propagate, that its fruit may be ready by the time the former has fulfilled its destination. Thus nature continually offers us an agreeable succession of flowers and fruit. She leaves no void; and from one end of the year to the other, she watches over the successive generations of plants. But why has not our Creator given us the enjoyment of more plants at a time? The reason of it is evi dent. dent. For how would it be, if all the flowers and fruit came at the same time? Would there not be seasons entirely without vegetables? Should we not be deprived of the pleasure which those agreeable and progressive changes procure us, by preventing the disgust inseparable from a sameness? How many plants would perish, if they were now exposed to the cold nights which are sometimes felt even in spring? Would so many millions of animals and insects find subsistence, if all the plants blossomed and bore fruit at the same time? The beneficent Creator wished to provide for our maintenance and pleasure. Those two views could only be fulfilled, by ordaining that nature should not produce all the vegetables at the same time, but successively, and by degrees. The spring flowers, which I am now admiring and contemplating, lead me naturally to think of the early season of life. Let lovely and sprightly youth consider and behold in these flowers the image of themselves. They also are placed in a fertile soil, and have a thousand charms for which they are loved and sought. Observe how soon the violet, the auricula, and the hyacinth fade, when the cruel north wind blows upon them. Think of the fate that threatens youth. Young man, be not vain of thy form. Do not venture to join too soon in the sports of thy companions, perhaps more robust than thou art. not vain of the flower of thy youth. Life is like unto grass. It flourishes as the flower of the field. "As soon Be as the wind goeth over it, it is gone, and the " place thereof shall know it no more." APRIL us. APRIL XXVII. THE RETURN OF THE BIRDS. A SMALL number of birds pass the winter with Whole families have gone out of our countries. Some sought milder climates than ours; others found warm retreats in caves, in hollow ground, and other such places. By degrees those birds return to us. The mild air in spring awakens the swallow from its benumbed state; and a secret instinct brings back into their own country, the birds who last autumn undertook a long passage beyond the seas, in search of subsistence, and of the climate their constitution required. Their return is usually in this order, that those who went earliest return soonest. The air will be peopled again with winged songsters. The groves will resound with the harmonious notes of the nightingale. The swallow will return to the nest it had built the winter before. The stork will find again the very house it left at the beginning of the winter. In a few weeks, the air will resound again with the songs of birds, and their return will fill the plains and the valleys with joy and gladness. Two things particularly are remarkable in this emigration of birds. The first is, that they know exactly the time when they ought to return. "The stork in the heavens knoweth her appoint"ed time; and the turtle, and the crane, and the " swallow, observe the time of their coming." Undoubtedly the temperature of the air, in respect to heat and cold, and the natural inclination of those creatures to produce, and to bring up their young, are their greatest motives for changing their place: But it is, in other respects, a very extraordinary extraordinary instinct, and in some degree inexplicable. It is no less wonderful, that those animals, void of reason, know so exactly the way they are to go, and how far it is. Without compass or guide, without provision, and in the most regular order, they undertake and finish a journey of sometimes more than 200 miles. Who then has taught them to follow a certain road in an element so inconstant as the air? Who informs them how far they are gone, and how far they have yet to go? Who is it that guides, feeds, and furnishes them with all necessaries for their journey? Do not those animals do what men themselves would be unable to do? To undertake journeys of such a length, what experience, what assistance, what directions and preparations do we require? Can we even, with the assistance of our reason, with a compass and geographical maps, follow so invariably the road over seas and mountains, as the birds do without assistance? In whatever light we consider this, we may plainly discover a power superior to the mere instinct of animals. We must acknowledge, that an Almighty lower has impressed this instinct on the mind of the birds, which they blindly follow. |