354 NATHANIEL SOUTHGATE SEALER 



making earth glorious with their beauty. . . . Step by step through every 

 variety of change that time can bring, even while they bloomed and flour- 

 ished, their present destiny was evolving, and now these dead flowers are 

 warming a creature of yesterday and lighting my room with the sunshine of a 

 forgotten age. I use no poetic license in saying the sunshine of long ago ; 

 for in all truth it is the light and heat of the days when the coal forests 

 flourished which comes to me now when these relics are burning. 



The country was Mr. Shaler's natural realm. At times it was 

 difficult for those about him to realize what such a retreat meant 

 to him ; but in the fuller knowledge that perspective gives it 

 is easy to see that it was necessary in order to keep his soul 

 resilient beneath the load of the commonplace that found its 

 way even into the academic world ; it was the need to escape 

 from the outer aspect that meets the eye to the inner light of 

 the spirit, and nowhere else were conditions so favorable for the 

 serene life of mind and spirit. It was thought by many that the 

 days must pass dully in a region so sparsely peopled, but he was 

 not of the dull-witted kind who suffer from quiet and demand 

 bustle as a substitute for thought. It was impossible for one to 

 be bored who sought, as he did, an explanation of the world 

 about him. The power and activity of his mind left little leisure 

 for ennui. With the good earth beneath his feet and the light 

 of heaven above, the ceaseless pulsing of the sea and the ancient 

 rocks to tell their story, he found himself elated. In truth, he 

 was never lonely in company with his great friend and goddess, 

 Nature. And yet he did not go out to her with the solemnity 

 of "a dedicated spirit." He sought by the active use of his 

 intelligence to interpret her truly and lovingly; but he never 

 yielded to the mawkish sentimentality that exalts grass and 

 stones and trees at the expense of the human interest. 



But even in the remote place he had chosen for his home there 

 was always something going on to appeal to his imagination. 

 Vineyard Sound itself, which he looked upon from his window, 

 was full of happenings all kinds of craft, from the noisy little 

 motorboats in which fishermen go to and from their nets ; the 



