THE FELICITY OF NATURALISTS. 821 



THE FELICITY OF NATUKALISTS. 



THERE is something very charming, especially to sedentary per- 

 sons, in a sketch such as that of Mr. Frank Buckland, which has 

 just appeared in " Macmillan," from the pen of Mr. Spencer Walpole. 

 It is not that the sketch is at all particularly good as literature ; it is as 

 good as it needed to be, but we read a hundred papers as good every 

 year. Nor is it that Mr, Buckland's career was in any way suggestive of 

 any tranquil or attractive sort of idyl. He was a man of business and a 

 man of bustle, knew how to hurry, and from a curious kind of careless- 

 ness was very often in the state known as flurry. He could not keep 

 anything he wanted, unless it were alive, and when over-bothered by 

 human stupidity, such as that of the railway ofticials, who taxed a 

 monkey as a dog and exempted a tortoise as a " hinsect," he could 

 get very hot indeed. He lived a more or less commonplace though 

 very active and useful life, working very hard as Fishery Commis- 

 sioner, and chief contributor to " Land and Water," and correspondent- 

 general to the practical naturalists of the United Kingdom, making the 

 money he wanted, spending it as he liked, with a good deal of waste of 

 silver, and generally demeaning himself as a valuable and bustling 

 member of the community. He was not of the lotos-eaters, but of the 

 breezy-bodies. The charm lies in the sense which the narrative evokes, 

 that a very happy career, a life in which depression, and low spirits, 

 and trouble generally are unknown, is quite possible to men. We have 

 noticed that specialty in the lives of naturalists very often before, 

 and begin to believe that it is to a quite separate degree peculiar to 

 them. It is not unlikely that it should be so, for many of the great 

 conditions of happiness are present in their lives. It is essential to 

 true happiness to have some pursuit which strongly interests you ; and 

 the naturalist has his pursuit, which never tires him, never fails him, 

 and can never come to an end. The author requires subjects and lei- 

 sure, the painter models, the student books and reasons for study ; but 

 the naturalist is always ready, always engaged, always getting his 

 result, even if it be a negative one, and never has the smallest prospect 

 of getting to the end of his occupation. No matter how small may be 

 the subdivision of the natural kingdom to which he attends, it is more 

 extensive than his life will be. Not only does no man know all there 

 is to be known about ants, or spiders, or minnows, but no man hopes 

 to know, except by study of the knowledge of other men also, accu- 

 mulated through ages. Most men get satiated or "weary," as they 

 put it, of their businesses ; but who ever heard of a true naturalist 

 retiring ? The longest life, the hardest voyages, the most endless col- 

 lections, will not satiate the curiosity of a conchologist about the colors, 

 let alone the convolutions and the texture of his brilliant favorites. 



