There is no music so sweet to his ear as the breezes that animated the lofty cloud-aspiring monarchs of the forest, with which he claims a peculiar acquaintance, or the murmuring of the brook, where he was wont to slake his thirst; no concert to his sense of sound so grateful as the wild notes of the birds that chanted, morning and evening, their Maker's praise, as he offered up his own prayers of gratitude for the prolongation of his existence, or the hummings of the myriads of insects, that every hour, in his woodland rovings, arrested his attention.
It was while listening to these voices of the Creator that his heart was first touched with feelings of admiration and wonder at the multifarious and exquisitely organized beings that everywhere, whether in tranquil meditation or in active search of his food, met his sight. He saw nature everywhere teeming with life, and proclaiming in language intelligible to every one the presence of an All-directing Power. It was in the forest, too, in the midst of the wonders of the creation, that the lost youth first aspired to lift up his thoughts to heaven, and mentally exclaim—"These are thy works, oh God!" It was also in the lonely wilderness he first cherished the hope, in the language of the Indian, that the Great Spirit had provided for him a higher state of happiness; and then it was he offered up a prayer, that this hope might, in his Maker's own time, be realized. It was also in the wilderness, communing with his own thoughts, that he first received an assurance that he possessed a soul to be saved, and became imbued with a firm conviction that the wise Creator, in his infinite beneficence, designed the happiness of his creatures, and that nothing can deprive the human race of his blessings but a connexion with sin.
With an undivided mind, intent only on examining and admiring the works of creation, the youth, in his lonely wayfaring, everywhere found the presence of his Maker. At the earliest moment of incipient vegetation, he was busy watching the indications of bursting nature preparing to re-robe the trees; and in a prospective vista he beheld the joyous movements of the various tribes of birds and insects providing for the wants of themselves and their progeny. Not less busily was his mind engaged when these labours actually commenced, in noting the construction of their habitations, and in admiring the wonderful ingenuity each displayed in providing for its own peculiar wants and safety.
Thus engaged in almost continual observation, he was enabled to trace the manner in which numbers of the feathered and insect tribes worked out the purposes of their existence. As the multifarious branches of the trees of the forest expanded themselves into fulness of leaf, he saw nations after nations of living things on the move to claim his attention, all pouring forth to seize on their share of the abundance of nature. As each revolving season hastened the decay of or imparted new vigour to the monarchs of the forest, the exile from man had an opportunity, abstracted as he was from the busy affairs of human life, to distinguish the various characteristics of the tribes of insects that took possession of the trees, differing from those which, apparently innoxiously, fed on their fulness of vegetable youthfulness, and the insects that came to prey only on the trunk or branches of those that age or disease had brought to decay. He saw the leaves of the forest come into life, witnessed their gradual expansion into verdant beauty; he was there, likewise, at their decline and fall—recurring symbols of the succession of the races of mankind,—and when, the biting north winds denuded of their leaves many of these mighty monarchs of the forest, he collected them to form his woodland bed. No season passed without adding to his store of information in reference to the works of nature, which knowledge, as we have already said, it is the design of this work to impart to others. It is the natural history of the forest, or so much of it as has been seen by one individual during a period of six years' sojourn in its solitude.
From what has been stated, the reader will not expect to find any classified arrangement of subjects in this work; things are spoken of as they were seen, either in the stillness of the shade at one time, or in the raging of the storm at another. Forest trees, in general, are described; those which may afford food to man are more frequently mentioned. Of quadrupeds, birds of the air, and insects, those that most excited his attention are more especially noticed. Those whose ferocity or whose shyness rendered it hazardous or difficult to approach them, are less spoken of. The details of the author's history, in reference to his probation in the wilds of nature, he has endeavoured to relate in a most familiar manner, and in the simplest language; and when describing scenes and events, faithfully to impart the impressions made on his own mind as they occurred.
Reasoning from the convictions arising from his experience,—that is, the effects wrought upon his own mind—he thinks that the study of natural objects, used as a means for the improvement of the religious and moral character of mankind, has been much overlooked by the philanthropist, and neglected by those who are sincere in their desire to improve their own species.
When the author was restored to society, nothing more excited his surprise than the total absence of a system of education which should at once direct the mind of youth to the fountain of all knowledge; and, in consequence, to persons he met with who took any lively interest in the study of natural objects, he remarked, "Your system of education appears more designed to exercise the mere verbal memory, than to excite observation or reflection;" adding, "that an acquaintance with the works of the Deity, as they are seen remote from the haunts of men, not only expands and elevates the thought, but spiritualises the soul." The contemplation of nature's works, while it subdues the pride of man, harmonizes the feelings of social life, and in a peculiar manner prepares the mind for the reception of revealed truths. It is only necessary to add that, the education of the "Emigrant's Son," previously to his exclusion from the world of man, had not in any way been of a peculiarly religious tendency; nor had he evinced any predilection for discussing religious topics. Yet, when he was brought to contemplate the works of the Deity on an extended scale, he everywhere found the indications of the presence of a superior and all-wise Creator in those scenes. It is therefore natural that he should feel a desire that others should seek and find Him at the same pure fountain of knowledge. "The voice of my beloved; behold he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills." (Solomon, ii. 9.)
True it is, that the student who once enters the portals of natural history, seldom thinks of returning. Strolling from object to object, his appetite is never satiated. St. Pierre aptly remarked, that "nature invites to the cultivation of herself." Should the perusal of the following page direct the mind of the youthful reader to the study of nature, the object of publishing this narrative will have been attained.
G. H. W.
HARRINGTON COTTAGE,
BROMPTON