50 Musings by Camp-Fire and Wayside 



then down to the lake and took a fluttering bath. 

 There was not a lazy bone in his little body. One 

 cannot look anywhere without seeing this. There 

 are titanic shoulders forever lifting higher the 

 mountains and the continents to make good to 

 them the losses they incur from the busy winds, 

 frosts, and rains. Everywhere is useful and benefi- 

 cent activity. 



Nature's exclusiveness is an imitable grace, for 

 it is but a higher kind of purity. All day long the 

 wind was blowing and the water on the beach was 

 clouded. The next morning, accustomed as I am 

 to crystal waters here, I was surprised at the spark- 

 ling purity of what was opaque the evening before. 

 "The water has washed its hands overnight," I 

 said. "Nay," said another, "but the water has 

 been taking a bath." It had reached up on the 

 beach for "scourine," and with this it had purified 

 itself of all organic particles, animal or vegetable. 

 The birds would be frowsy as a hoydenish girl if 

 they did not prune every feather and lay it neatly 

 and smoothly in its place. They, too, take up the 

 scourine, then the bath; and then, having done 

 their washing, hang their clothes out to dry, and 

 then do their ironing. The neatest thing I ever 

 saw was a deer in his new coat of blue — not a par- 

 ticle of dust or of soil, from the tips of his new horns 

 to the tips of his sharp, transparent hoofs. Every- 

 thing in Nature is daintily exclusive. She abhors a 

 slouch. It is esteemed unpleasant work, this clear- 



