WAYS OF NATURE 



may have with a dog, simply because he is a dog, 

 and does not invade your own exclusive sphere ! He 

 is, in a way, like your youth come back to you, and 

 taking form all instinct and joy and adventure. 

 You can ignore him, and he is not offended; you 

 can reprove him, and he still loves you; you can hail 

 him, and he bounds with joy; you can camp and 

 tramp and ride with him, and his interest and curi 

 osity and adventurous spirit give to the days and the 

 nights the true holiday atmosphere. With him you 

 are alone and not alone; you have both compan 

 ionship and solitude. Who would have him more 

 human or less canine? He divines your thought 

 through his love, and feels your will in the glance of 

 your eye. He is not a rational being, yet he is a very 

 susceptible one, and touches us at so many points 

 that we come to look upon him with a fraternal 

 regard. 



I suppose we should not care much for natural 

 history, as I have before said, or for the study of 

 nature generally, if we did not in some way find 

 ourselves there ; that is, something that is akin to 

 our own feelings, methods, and intelligence. W T e 

 have traveled that road, we find tokens of ourselves 

 on every hand ; we are &quot; stuccoed with quadrupeds 

 and birds all over,&quot; as Whitman says. The life- 

 history of the humblest animal, if truly told, is 

 profoundly interesting. If we could know all that 

 befalls the slow moving turtle in the fields, or the 

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