C< >RRKSI'< ).\I)ENCE AND L\'F< >k\IATI< ).\. 



29 





never heard of except as the work of 

 a serious student ; hence, as the)' have 

 no connection with child life, no one 

 would class them as a childish amuse- 

 ment, though the average adult would 

 consider them not worthy of notice. 



( )n the other hand, the difference 

 between a child's interest and an 

 adult's is often one of degree rather 

 than of kind. The child will pick up 

 pretty pebbles and stones on the shore, 

 merely because they are pretty, while 

 the scientist may pick up similar stones 

 for the story they tell of the formation 

 of continents. Both are interested in 

 the stones, but with a difference ; while 

 between the child and the scientist is 

 the average adult who has lost the 

 power of seeing any beauty in the 

 pebbles and has not acquired the 

 knowledge which enables him to read 

 the story of the strataed rocks. To 

 many people the absence of long words 

 raises the presumption that the subject 

 has been treated in a simple and ele- 

 mentary manner, suitable to the com- 

 prehension of the child, and dealing 

 only with things they knew and ceased 

 to care for long ago. They do not 

 know of the existence of a middle plane 

 wherein one lives in an intimate, 

 friendly relation with the world of 

 Xature, seeing and feeling ever 

 clearer and deeper into the wondrous 

 beauty and sweetness of it all, with- 

 out needing to know all the formid- 

 able technicalities of the laboratory. 



Regarding Mr. Beecher's chipmunk 

 on his lao, I can say "me too" — only 

 mine did not have a string to him. 

 Had taken a book and lunch one 

 summer day, for a quiet afternoon "by 

 the shores of Gitchee Gumee, by the 

 shining Big Sea Water," and had 

 chosen a spot under shelter of a low 

 bank. Toward evening, after I had 

 eaten my lunch, a chipmunk suddenly 

 sprang down over the bank, alighting 

 a few feet from me, evidently on his 

 way to the water. He stopped in sur- 

 prise at sight of me, stared for a few 

 minutes, and then took a little jump 

 toward me ; stopped again to look me 

 over, picked up a large crumb that 

 happened to lie at his feet, looked at 

 me intently a few seconds longer, and 

 then gave a long jump and alighted 



squarely on my lap, with his crumb 

 held firmly in his mouth. 1 believe 

 he intended to sit there and eat it, 

 but as I sat in breathless delight at 

 the charming confidence of the friendly 

 little soul, a group of rather noisy 

 young people further along the beach 

 suddenly became still more noisy, and 

 frightened the tiny creature, who 

 sprang up the bank and disappeared, 

 carrying his precious crumb. Am 

 afraid 1 wished that crowd — well, never 

 mind wdiere. The noticeable point was 

 that his friendly overtures were not 

 prompted by hunger, for he already 

 had the food without coming to me, 

 and there was none on my lap for 

 him to see or smell. 



The fly-catching mouse of Detroit 

 is not alone in that propensity, as on 

 two occasions one of our office mice, 

 which I had tamed so he would climb 

 up and sit on my lap to eat lunch, 

 caught and ate flies which came too 

 near in an attempt to get a share of 

 the good things. 



How could one procure copies of Mr. 

 Bentley's snow crystal books, pub- 

 lished by the Weather Bureau? Would 

 also like to get a print of Mr. Norton's 

 photo of birches bending over the 

 river. His address is not given with 

 the article. Would you care for an 

 "ice storm" photo taken near enough 

 to show detail of branches? 



Truly the program for the Arcadia 

 Summer School sounds delightful. I 

 shall be there in spirit, and perhaps 

 some time in more tangible form. 



If in this long epistle there is any- 

 thing available as fodder for the 

 "Elephant," do not hesitate to extract 

 it and ''blue pencil" the rest. The 

 reading of the magazine left me with 

 a desire to "talk things over," but 

 doubtless you have a large and capable 

 waste basket. 



Sincerely yours. 



Nellie B. Pendergast. 



For Mr. Bentley's snow crystal 

 books or for his photographs, address 

 him at Jericho, Vermont. 



For Mr. Norton's photographs, 

 address him at Bristol, Connecticut. 



The Guide to Nature desires to 



