FIELD AND STUDY 



the daffodils of the botanist; Emerson's "Humble- 

 Bee" gives us more than we can get from any work 

 on entomology; Burns's "Mouse" is a real mouse, 

 but not the one you catch in a trap; and Shake- 

 speare's violets where do they grow save in the 

 magic page of Shakespeare? Art always rises above 

 fact. 



I am insisting upon these things as if I thought 

 there were those who would dispute them, but prob- 

 ably there are not. Realists and idealists must agree 

 when they understand one another. 







Young men of literary ambition often ask me 

 what they shall do to become good writers. I usually 

 answer that there is not much hope for them or they 

 would not ask that question. If they were born to 

 write, they will not need much guidance. If they 

 were not, who can really help them? The old advice, 

 "Look into your heart and write," puts the whole 

 matter in a nutshell, but if the heart has no interior, 

 if it is not in some sense a mirror of the universe, 

 what is the use of looking? 



One may say straight seeing, clear thinking, and 

 keen feeling are among the prime requisites for 

 good writing, but telling the blind to see and the 

 dull to feel and the halt to be nimble is not very 

 practical advice. 



