NATURE AND NATURAL HISTORY 



We divide and subdivide, and sort, and sift, because 

 we can use only parts and fragments of nature. 







One May day on my return from a walk I asked a 

 friend quoting a line of Emerson's, about "the 

 untaught spring being wise in cowslips and anem- 

 ones" which one of our wild flowers showed the 

 most wisdom, at least something most akin to hu- 

 man taste, in showing off its own beauty. After a 

 moment's reflection she said, "The columbine." 

 "Yes, that is it * rock-loving columbine,' as Em- 

 erson says." It is really the child of the rocks; it 

 must have its rocky throne and background, the 

 delicate, sculptured, flame-colored flower hanging 

 its brilliant tremulous bells above the gray, immo- 

 bile rocks. In my walk through a field I came upon 

 an inclined rock-stratum cutting up through the 

 turf, and at the foot of it stood groups of columbine 

 set off against the gray background. Along the road 

 in the woods the rocky wall and precipice were fairly 

 aflame with columbine. It came out of narrow seams 

 like jets of flame. Apparently the less soil, the more 

 columbine. It seemed as if the old Silurian rock 

 after millions of years of gestation had hatched out 

 a soul, and this was the expression of it. 



"Ten thousand saw I at a glance, 

 Tossing their heads in sprightly dance." 



Wordsworth's daffodils are coarse and common be- 

 side our flower, with its throb of color, its five gold- 

 307 



