THE OSPREY. 



An IlluLstrateci IVlagazine of PopiAlar Ornithology. 



Pviblislneci Monttily e>::cept in Julv and August. 



Volume 2. 



MAY, 1898. 



Number 9. 



A NATURALIST'S BOYHOOD.* 



BARNET PHILLIPS. 



AM enjoying a book, a pic- 

 ture, a statue, or, say, a 

 piecte of music. I know 

 these to be the finished 

 works of the man or the 

 woman, but I invariably 

 hark back to the boy or girl. 

 What I want to discover 

 is the precise time, in the 

 lives of certain boys and 

 girls, when the steel first struck the flint, the spark 

 flew, and out streamed that jet of fire which never 

 afterwards was extinguished. 



I was reading an article entitled ' Professor Wrig- 

 gler,' written by Mr. William Hamilton Gibson, 

 which appeared in 'Harper's Young People,' in the 

 number of October 31, 1893. I need not tell you 

 that both old and young, at home and abroad, delight 

 in reading what Mr. Hamilton Gibson has written, 

 because he was not alone the most observant of 

 naturalists, but a distinguished artist and a sympa- 

 thetic author. 



He thus filled a peculiar position in the literary and 

 artistic world which is seldom given to any one man 

 to fill. Besides being a naturalist from his boyhood, 

 he was able to write better than most people what he 

 wished to write, and to illustrate his article in a way 

 that was unique. Mr. Gibson's death, therefore, has 

 closed the career of a man who had the ability to in- 

 terest a large number of people, hot only in natural 

 history, but in art and literature. 



The news of Mr. Gibson's death came to me sud- 

 denly, and as I was reading it I recalled an interest- 

 ing talk I had with him less than a year ago about 

 his work early in life and the way he got his start. I 

 had been reading one of his articles to a lady, who, 

 when she heard the name of the author, said : 



"Why, I knew Mr. Hamilton Gibson long ago. 

 When he was a lad he painted a lovely drop-curtain 

 for us. He could not have been more than fifteen 

 or sixteen then." 



*This article on W. Hamilton Gibson is published through 

 the courtesy of Harper and Brothers. Gibson's book ' My 

 Studio Neighbors' is reviewed in this number. — Ed. 



The next time I met Mr. Hamilton Gibson I asked 

 him about this drop-curtain. "Do you remember 

 it?" 



"Certainly I do. We had a temperance society at 

 Sandy Hook, Connecticut, and we gave a grand en- 

 tertainment. I made the drop-curtain. It repre- 

 sented a wood. There was a rock in the foreground, 

 and a \'irginia-creeper was climbing over it." 



"Was it an original composition?" I asked. 



' ' I made many studies of the rock and the Virginia- 

 creeper from nature. On the other side of the cur- 

 tain I painted a drawing-room. There were a marble 

 mantle-piece, a clock, and lace curtains. I don't 

 think I enjoyed painting the clock as much as the 

 Virginia-creeper. " 



"To paint a drop-curtain at fifteen or sixteen 

 means that you had then a certain facility. But that 

 could not have been your beginning When did you 

 break your shell? What chipped or cracked your 

 egg so that your particular bird emerged, chirped, 

 and finally took flight?' That was what I wanted to 

 know" 



"Is that what you are after?" asked Mr. Hamilton 

 Gibson. "From my baby days I was curious about 

 flowers and insects. The two were always united in 

 my mind What could not have been more than a 

 childish guess was confirmed in my later days." 

 Then Mr. Hamilton Gibson paused. I could see he 

 was recalling, not without emotion, some memories of 

 the long past. 



"I was very young, and playing in the woods. I 

 tossed over the fallen leaves, when I came across a 

 chrysalis. There was nothing remarkable in that, 

 for I knew what it was. But, wonderful to relate — 

 providentially I deem it— as I held the object in my 

 hand a butterfly slowly emerged, then fluttered in my 

 fingers." 



" Yoa were pleased with its beauty, " I said. 



"Oh! It was more than that. I do not know 

 whether I was or was not a youngster with an imagi- 

 nation, but suddenly the spiritual view of a new or 

 of another life struck me. I saw in this jewel born 

 from an unadorned casket some inkling of immor- 



