A BABBLE OF GREEN FIELDS.

Hawke's Bay Times, Volume 8, Issue 446, 13 December 1866, Page 3

A BABBLE OF GREEN FIELDS.

fftosm the London Eerie*-.] When poor old Falstaffwas lying upon his death-bed at Mm Quickiy’s tavern, lie “ babbled,” said his hostess, “of green fields.” We need not wonder at this, althoagh we may admire and recognise that marvellous insight into the hidden springs of human nature that

should have led our great dramatist thus to note so subtle a touch in the closing career of one whose daily talk had been of so opposite a character. But this, his loose talk with his looser companions, had now slipped off him, and was dropped aside as a disused gar* ment; and just before he “went away, an’ it nau oeen any chnstcm child,” his pot-house-brawls and quips and drunken revels, the mad doings of Prince Hal and his friends, of Pistol, Nym and Bardolph, ail these faded from his memory, and, sweeping from his brain like a cloud charged with pestilential vapors, left for his last moments a serener sky and a purer atmosphere; and he babbled of green fields. The sweet perfume of the country had banished, for a supreme moment, the more accustomed vinous order in which the fat knight must have been steeped, and his thoughts wandered from the Eastcheap Tavern to those rural senes in which the earlier portion of his life had been passed. They made, it tit ay be, the sole basis of peace and innocence in his chequered life; and it was well that the green fields should come back to him in memory, though it were but for a moment.

And it is to green fields that every one can turn with satisfaction when wearied of town life, town manners, and town associations. The heathen poets fixed their heaven of happiness in elysian fields, and could think of no higher reward for a life of earthly toil than to exchange it for a summer’s drowse in ever-blooming meads. To them, the pastures ofasphodel and amaranth represented a perfection of bliss, and to recline amid their fragrance was all that the poor human heart could desire. Even Christianity with its clearer knowledge and higher aspirations, has taken advantage of an idea that is so pleasing to the natural sense; and we have it in yet another shape in “the lotos-eaters,” as they rested after their labor where the land “ seemed always afternoon,” and where weary limbs could be rested “ on beds of asphodel.” These various ideas may be taken as representing the universal natural longing that comes to those in populous cities peat, to break away from their daily toil amid brick-and-mortar surroundings, and seize a moment’s breathing time in the green fields, revelling in country sights and sounds. In some sort this longing way may be accepted as a sign of the hearts craving for that better land to which we desire to be born when the fever and fret of life is over. For when the lengthened streets of the city, with all their din of traffic, their heat and dust of distraction, their ebb and flow of the human tide in the great golden sea that surges over sin and suffering to wealthy sands of gold or to the cruel rocks of destruction, when all the discordant elements of the man-made town are left behind us and we are brought face to face with nature, then we seem lo be carried to another world, where all around is whispering to us of our Creator’s love and goodness. For although He has never left Himself without a witness* and although His method and care may be discerned everywhere, yet it is in that great green book of Nature that He has written the records of His marvels in a language that is plainest to be read and easiest to be understood by the unlettered. For this there needs no lore of sage or bookworm’s learning; for this the student’s midnight lamp need not be kindled. All that is required of those who come to read the Creator’s book is a loving heart for its divine Author and a docile spirit taught of Him The rest will follow of itself, and the student will be instructed merely by exercising the will to acquire knowledge. A most royal road to learning is this, where, if the desire be truly felt the object sought is gained without toil and where the earnest longing opens the eyes of understanding; so that Nature’s great green book may be read with a zest that will never pall, and with an ease that will not admit the thought of possible difficulties to deter from the edifying perusal.

Although the tender green of early spring may be nature’s choicest livery, and may invite the poet’s happiest thoughts, yet it is at the present season of the year, when summer is in the full meridian of her maturity, that the longing for the enjoyments of green fields comes upon us with a greater craving, and with a force that can scarcely be withstood. Saturated with the town and its toil, the advent of summer thrills us with the sensations analogous to those that must be experienced by the young sea-gull, which cradled in its moorland nest miles and miles away from sight or sound of the sea, yet feels the throb of the wave within its breast, and, almost ere his wings can bear him for the flight steers his course straight for that ocean which is to be his life’s home. And so with us j when June, “ the month of roses,” has been laid to rest, or when hot, fierce August is slaying os with that thunderous dog-day heat by which this year, after its first chill,

stormy days, reduced us to a state of pantinrf' subjection to its thraldom, then they who have been baked in tho ovens of town- begin to cry out desparately that they may receive a momentary coolness and slake their consuming thirst if only for a minute, by a plunge into the green sea or greener woods. They begin to babble about green fields. And, interspersed among those meadows that have been browned by the sun, there are fields of emerald green, from which the sweet-smelling hay has just been cleared, spread out life-g smooth-shaven lawns, inviting croquet, archery, or cricket. To get away to nature for a time, and to leave art and manufacture to take care of themselves, this" is the paramount idea of the season. Learning, law, art, and commerce may all die, as completely as they were requested to do in the famous young England couplet—or, at any rate, their animation may be suspended for a time—if only we can escape from them in their town haunts for a brief period, and as July burns itself into August, and the critical day of St. Swithin has been passed in unclouded sunshine, find a refreshing change in the near neighborhood of the green sea, and green leaves and green fields.

Moat of us are enabled to do this for a longer or shorter period, and with greater or less ease, according to the state of our finances and the needs'of our respective avocations; and we all know how greatly the energies are recruited and mind and body healthily refreshed by such a change. To shake off the city dust and smoke, and to wander awhile in this pleasant summer-time into the open country; to fly from the sound of whirring wheels and clanging hammers, and to listen to the sea-mew’s cry or the wood-bird’s song; to leave the dull vistas of streets for the forest aisles of pines and oaks, and the quays and docks with their steamers and shipping for the rushing rivers or the babbling brooks where the trout are leaping and flashing; to disengage ourselves from the crowding throng, intent on their buying and selling, and to exchange them for the sheep and cattle in the homesteads, the pheasants and hares in the covers and preserves—in brief, to wander from the manmade town to the God-made country, and there to roam at our own sweet will, and in a desultory fashion to “ babble of green fields,” —surely this is no mere transitory and purposeless pleasure, but it is a proceeding that leaves its mark upon us for good, and that supplies us with abundant materials for future profit and improvement.