A TIME TO REFLECT

When the shadows from the hills have gown longer, caused bythe departing sun, kindly reflect of your days spent amid the solitude ofMother Nature, which were the sweetest enjoyment to you.

Sometime, somewhere, in that undiscovered paradise high in theheavens whose scenes are painted by His hand, shall you find a happy huntingground where the axe of the lumberman has not penetrated; where the solemnitiesof the immense woodland—its brooding calm, its sequestered depths, itsflickering lights and beckoning shadows—remain unchanged year after year; wherethe sky is filled with countless wild geese and ducks; where, with the shadesof shotguns whose like are made no more, and with pointers and retrievers whoselike dwell not now upon this earth, shall you hunt the ghosts of wildlife thathas no closed season.

“If a man could be bornwhen he’s old

 And gradually grow young,

 The wisdom he’d gain and the lore he’d attain

 Are not easily said or sung.”