LOCAL OBSERVATIONS OF GENERAL APPLICATION 



A boy who had lived for perhaps ten 

 years, was fishing from the bank of my 

 pond. A fish-hawk suddenly dropped 

 into the water and flew off with a fish in 

 his claws. The boy looked on in amaze- 

 ment. As he hurriedly wound up his 

 line I heard him say, "I am afraid of 

 that bird. It might carry me away, it 

 is such a strong bird." 



At my last glimpse of him he was 

 running. 



I wish he had been a little nearer the 

 truth. Yet it may be better to know 

 nature incorrectly, than to know her 

 not at all. 



It was necessary for me to call at a 

 house to make an inquiry. A little 

 girl of five or six years followed the 

 woman to the door. I appreciate the 

 fact that any child might justly be sur- 

 prised to see a frog on the step, and 

 astonished to hear him speak, yet it may 

 be unseemly for the child to ask ques- 

 tions and to interrupt. The woman 

 gave me the information, and when the 

 child continued to pull her mother's 

 skirts and to ask questions, the woman 

 turned and slapped her in the face. 

 The little girl said nothing. She ap- 

 peared to be accustomed to such treat- 

 ment, but it sent a pang to my reptilian 

 heart. 



The land at one side of my pond 

 rises in a gentle acclivity, on which 

 nature has planted some trees and scat- 

 tered some stones. Among the stones 

 are feathery sprays of asparagus es- 

 caped from cultivation. I saw two boys 

 climbing the slope. One was showing 

 the other some of the beauties of the 

 natural objects about them. I over- 

 heard him say, as he touched a plume 

 of asparagus, "This is Indian thyme. 

 The Indians planted it here a hundred 

 years ago." 



I was pleased to perceive that the 

 boy had some natural power of obser- 

 vation, and I was glad to see that he 

 was willing to help a companion, but 



I dislike to pay tax. When the Tax 

 Assessor visits me at my pond, to talk 

 over the amount of my personal prop- 

 erty, I am disposed to croak in my loud- 

 est and harshest voice, and I usually 

 do so. When I look at certain things 

 for which my money is spent without 

 my consent, the paying of tax becomes 

 to me especially offensive. The schools 

 for instance. I know that the English 

 language is the most difficult in the 

 world to write correctly, but, really, the 

 adult of the present should do better 

 with it than he often does. The other 

 day, as I was hopping abroad, I noticed 

 on a fence a sign-board that said. 



"No Crosing aLoUD." 

 I had recently paid my school tax, and 

 this placard gave my nervous system 

 a shock that sent a thrill into my 

 pocket. I was still thinking condem- 

 natory thoughts, when on the side of a 

 house I read, 



"For Sale. Inquire on the Pormisis," 

 and, as one of my friends was wont to 

 say, "I was sapporized." 



Where lies the l^lame? On the teach- 

 er, the system or the pupil? After all 

 these years, after all the treasure that 

 has been lavished, where lies the blame? 



Why do so many human beings have 

 bad manners ? To protect myself when 

 I traverse the village streets, I move 

 quietly and slowly, and keep myself 

 concealed as well as possible in the 

 grass by the wayside, or among the 

 weeds or the bushes. 



As I was resting, or hiding under 

 the open windows of another house, I 

 heard the querulous voice of a child 

 and a woman's reproving words. As 



