Thy fill, the flowery leaves among,
Sated with the glorious feast,
Thou retir’st to endless rest.
While the pure contemplative mind thus almost envies what the rude observer would treat unfeelingly, it naturally shrinks into itself, on the thought that there may be, in the immense chain of beings, many, though as invisible to us as we to the inhabitants of this little flower whose organs are not made for comprehending objects larger than a mite, or more distant than a straw’s breadth, to whom we may appear as much below regard as these to us.
With what derision should we treat those little reasoners, could we hear them arguing for the unlimited duration of the carnation, destined for the extent of their knowledge, as well as their action. And yet, among ourselves there are reasoners who argue, on no better foundation, that the earth which we inhabit is eternal.
The Kildeer Plover.
This bird is so called from its cry, resembling the word kildeer, and is well known in all parts of the United States. It builds its nest in level pastures which afford pools of water, or on sandy downs near the sea. Its nest is a mere hollow, lined with straw or weeds; the eggs are four, cream-colored, and spotted with black. The bird is about ten inches long, is of an olive-gray color, and has long legs, which enable it to wade in the water, of which it is very fond.
While rearing its young, the kildeer makes an incessant noise, and if any one approaches its nest, it flies around and over him, calling kildeer, kildeer, te dit, te dit, te dit, seeming to evince the utmost anxiety. If this clamor does not frighten away the intruder, it will run along the ground, with hanging wings, pretending to be lame, in order to draw off attention from the nest. It seems to be a sleepless bird, for it may be heard very late at night, in the spring and fall.