LESSONS FROM NA TURE. 35 



the leaf of an herbary. Who can discover the queen 

 of the flowers in a dried rose? In order to its being 

 an object at once of love and philosophy, it must be 

 viewed when, issuing from the cleft of a humid rock ; it 

 shines on its native verdure, when the zephyr sways 

 it, on a stem armed with thorns." 



Nothing can take the place of personal contact with 

 nature. No great naturalist has learned his lessons 

 from books only. 



Agassiz had learned more about fishes before he 

 ever saw a fish-book, than he found in the book after 

 he got it. 



Audubon lived in the woods, and learned the voices 

 of all the birds, and could tell them also by their 

 flight. 



Gilbert White wrote charming letters about the 

 swallows under his eaves, the cricket on his hearth 

 and the old tortoise that lived in his kitchen-garden. 



W. W. Bailey braves the frosts of winter, and rambles 

 by the icy brooks, or through the snow-carpeted aisles 

 of the naked forest, to see what nature does when 

 summer is ended. He writes : 



"The pretty little stream is bordered by a fringe of 

 white ice, under which we can see great bubbles press, 

 squeezing themselves into very curious forms. The 

 stream murmurs some pleasant story of the summer 

 violets. On its still pools float leaf-gondolas of curi- 

 ous patterns. Great fern-feathers, unwithered by the 

 frost, droop over the brook, and velvety mosses cushion 

 the shores." 



These men understand Nature. They enter into the 

 spirit of her mighty, throbbing life, and interpret the 

 secrets of her wondrous love. 



And if you have ever known what it is to feel a 

 great love for the very earth, so that on some sunny 

 day you have wandered off alone, and under the 



