6o 



THE GUIDE TO NATURE 



they unconsciously cross-fertilized the 

 plants, thereby doing a great work in 

 the aiding of natural selection, to make 

 the next generation of seedlings of a 

 stronger constitution than that of their 

 parents. We, too, can imagine the 

 crystalline mountain lakes, and the 

 chattering of the wild birds as they 

 sought out agreeable companions for 

 the summer. But while nature is 

 sweet, gentle, pleasing and inviting, 

 she is unmerciful. She beckons to her 

 lovers and they follow — sometimes to 

 their graves. She gives the best she 

 has, but is often helpless to assist a 

 creature in distress. The young nat- 



end, grinned and the searchers stood 

 back. No being had been permitted 

 to touch his master's body. Although 

 half dead he was unwilling even at this 

 moment to give up. 



It is not an uncommon death. The 

 incident was soon forgotten by the 

 average run of humanity, but Sir Wal- 

 ter Scott was deeply impressed. His 

 serious thinking is disclosed in the fol- 

 lowing interpretation called 



HELVELLYN 

 I climbed the dark brow of the mighty Hel- 

 vellyn, 

 Lakes and mountains beneath me gleamed 

 misty and wide: 



THE LITTLE T'.RIDGE AT THE FOOT OF HELVELLYN. 



uralist met trouble. He lost his way. 

 Nature said, "See my stars, or feel the 

 moss on the sides of my trees, and go 

 to thy house." But this was barely 

 adequate. The naturalist tramped the 

 sides and top of Helvellyn seeking di- 

 rections, but to no avail. His faithful 

 terrier panted for breath. Him, ex- 

 hausted, nature sang to sleep on the 

 soft green sod. His body withered. 

 The terrier failed to understand his 

 master's strange and unusual nap. The 

 foxes and the ravens came to visit the 

 remains, but the little companion de- 

 fied them to disturb his master's slum- 

 ber. 



Three months elapsed before a 

 searching party discovered his body. 

 The half starved terrier, faithful to the 



All was still, save, by fits, when the eagle was 

 yelling, 

 And starting around me the echoes replied. 



On the right Striden Edge round the Red 

 Tarn was bending, 



And Catchedicam its left verge was defending, 



One huge nameless rock in the front was 

 ascending, 



When I marked the sad spot where the wan- 

 derer died. 



Dark green was that spot 'mid the brown 

 mountain heather, 

 Where the Pilgrim of nature lay stretched 

 in decay, 



Like the corpse of an outcast abandoned to 

 weather, 

 Till the mountain winds wasted the tenant- 

 less clay ; 



Nor yet quite deserted, though lonely ex- 

 tended, 



Eor faithful in death, his mute favorite at- 

 tended. 



