Margaret's love of beauty made her, of course, a votary of nature, but rather for pleasurable excitement than with a deep poetic feeling.
Her imperfect vision and her bad health were serious impediments to intimacy with woods and rivers.
She had never paid,—and it is a little remarkable,—any attention to natural sciences.
She neither botanized, nor geologized, nor dissected.
Still she delighted in short country rambles, in the varieties of landscape, in pastoral country, in mountain outlines, and, above all, in the sea-shore.
At Nantasket Beach, and at Newport
, she spent a month or two of many successive summers.
She paid homage to rocks, woods, flowers, rivers, and the moon.
She spent a good deal of time out of doors, sitting, perhaps, with a book in some sheltered recess commanding a landscape.
She watched, by day and by night, the skies and the earth, and believed she knew all their expressions.
She wrote in her journal, or in her correspondence, a series of ‘moonlights,’ in which she seriously attempts to describe the light and scenery of successive nights of the summer moon.
Or course, her raptures must appear sickly and superficial