The daily morning journal and courier., 1895-06-19

Beautiful Lake.
 Dresden, May IA. 1895.
 To the Editor of the JOURNAL AND COURIER;
 For To the winter is past the rain is
 over and gone. The flowers appear on
 the earth; the time of the singing of
 birds has come. and the voice of the
 turtle Is heard in the land" Surely the
 writer of the above lines must have
 been familiar with the wonderful reve-
 lations which are to be seen on every
 hand as beautiful spring succeeds the
 snows of winter, causing the birds to
 return with their sweet songs, and
 fresh leaves to unfold from trees which
 actually appear to be quite dead. As l
 stepped out upon my stone balcony at
 five o'clock this morning I listened to
 the birds chorus, which surpassed any
 of those grand choruses which are
 nightly to be heard down at the great
 Dresden opera house; as I stood listen
 ing to the sweet bird notes there came
 to my mind (and it was suggested by
 
 lovely city) the following expression,
 ''The voice of the turtle is heard in the
 land" Not the voice of the uncouth,
 uninteresting tortoise, whose voice Is as
 repellent as its ugly form; notwith-
 standing these grave disadvantages,
 however, the tortoise Is noted for its
 fervent attachment to its equally ugly
 mate, thereby setting many of the hu-
 man species pattern of honest living and constancy. The sacred writer
 whose words we have quoted above re- fers to the sweet voice of the Turtur
 Risorius," which is so familiar to trav- elers in Egypt and Syria; those notes resemble the cooings of the human laugh, and the voice of the turtle as it is heard in oriental lands is lasting delight. We have no turtle dove in Dresden, but there are very many sweet song-birds which are every morning hard at work doing their very best to sing their praises to their Divine Maker as their swelling little threats emit those dulcet notes which render their concerts so delectable. Dresden in its spring attire is indeed superb sight and to walk through it's pretty parks and witness the grad swell ing buds and the flowers slow ly unfolding their magic beau- ties is to me a delightful experi- ence, and a new life seems to surround me; the very grass spires as they push their sharp points through the hard ground, the very twigs which appear dry and dead, actually develop signs of vegetable life which appear miraculous, and all nature the blue empyrean above us, the glowing orb of day giving life to all living things, and the heecy white clouds which ever drift across the skies, seem rejoicing as they unite to sing, "The hand that made us is Di- vine" During these glorious days of spring, which seem to me to pre-shadow a future life I love to walk out to the "Grosse Garten," and sitting under the shade of ancient trees, read an interest ing book which not only charms me as I read, but at the same time instructs my mind with golden thoughts Such a book I read yesterday morning under a tree which measured its life by centu- ries, its huge gnarled, crooked branches stretched heavenward to great height, even in it's old age palpable symbols of spring. The book to which TGIeT WdS ' lIlG NTItdIuS Ul AI6IIOIyb by that interesting English writer, James Payn, whose pure, pellueid clas- sic English charmed me intensely. | Great is the influence of a pure, good | book! It was singular old Teufelsdroch | who cried out, Never since Aaron's | rod went out of practice, or even before | It. was there such a wonder working Tool; greater than all recorded miracles | have been performed by pens (books). | indeed is the virtue of a true | book Not like a dead city of stones, | yearly needing repair; like spiritual | tree let me say, it stands from year to | year and from age to age"
 The book-maker builds what will | 'outlast all marble and metal" some thing whereto all kindreds of the earth | will pilgrim.
 I would earnestly recommend that | new book of James Payn to my readers to take with them to quiet retreat | within the green woods. find Sir | Tohn Lubbock's Pleasures of Life" Beauties of Nature" and "Use of Life" and delightful works to peruse n the open air, also the very charming title book recently written by Anne rhackeray Ritchie, the gifted daughter # the late William M. Thackeray. 'efer to the book of which the title is "A Chapter from Some Memoirs" If thy of my readers find "time hang ieavy," and know not how to while it way, let him take visit to the green woods of pleasant day, with a book written in classic, crystal English, as dear as the dew drops on the grass, md he will find the time will pass rap dly away.
 The "Grosse Garten" Is over three hundred acres in area; 1t Is a delight ul park and garden, with forest giants ating far back to the times of the ear y Saxons winding paths turning in Ic md out among Towering shrubs, and elightful gardens radiant with abun- ( ant rare trees and wondrous flowers { 1vite us within their delightful recess s; here are green lawns as smooth as { elvet, delighting the eyes with their ( pretty lakes on whose placid { osom graceful swans glide with state Z 7 and majestic movements; myriads of l arp swim in the waters so tame as to c lmost feed from the hands of little t hildren; the thickets are filled with f irds of rare plumage, while tinid S ares seem to know that they are care S lilly protected by the law as they chase S