WILD LIFE OF ORCHARD AND FIELD 



busy creatures you have corralled. Watch the 

 minute insects and creeping things attending to 

 their business among the chrysoprase columns 

 of the grass-stems, and beneath the umbrage of 

 clover and sorrel and violet. You shall see what 

 you shall see, and it will be worth your while! 



But this is too much effort now. I want to do 

 nothing — to pay attention nowhere, by effort. That 

 gleaming scarlet wriggler is a timid, helpless, 

 baby salamander, defying every law of protective 

 coloration by glowing like a coal of fire, whether 

 he crawls among the fresh herbage or over the sod- 

 den old matting worn out beneath winter's feet. 

 I need but turn my head to see his elder brother 

 in dusky green swimming along the shallow bight, 

 where an eddy of brook-water rests quietly for a 

 moment. This gaudy youngster, if he live another 

 year or two, will tire of his travels ashore and go 

 into the water and turn green also. Salamanders 

 are not like men. They are greenest when they 

 are adult. It is upon the cards of their youth in- 

 stead of on the grave-stones of their old age that 



they write : 



" As you are now 



So once was I; 



As I am now 



So you must be." 



169 



