206 LOVERS OF NATURE 



toes, felt them, and stroked them with her 

 hand, and smelled them, and was loath to lay 

 them down, they were so full of suggestion of 

 the dear land and home she had so lately left. 

 I suppose it was a happy surprise to her to find 

 that the earth had the same fresh, moist smell 

 here that it had in Ireland, and yielded the 

 same crisp tubers. The canny creature had 

 always worked in the fields, and the love of the 

 soil and of homely country things was deep in 

 her heart. Another emigrant from over the 

 seas, a laboring man, confined to the town, said 

 to me in his last illness, that he believed he 

 would get well if he could again walk in the 

 fields. A Frenchman who fled the city and 

 came to the country said, with an impressive 

 gesture, that he w^anted to be where he could 

 see the blue sky over his head. 



These little incidents are but glints or faint 

 gleams of that love of nature to which I would 

 point, — an affection for the country itself, and 

 not a mere passing admiration for its beauties. 

 A great many people admire nature; they write 

 admiring things about her; they apostrophize 

 her beauties; they describe minutely pretty 

 scenes here and there; they climb mountains to 

 see the sun set, or the sun rise, or make long 

 journeys to find waterfalls, but nature's real 

 lover listens to their enthusiasm with coolness 

 and indiff"erence. Nature is not to be praised 

 or patronized. You cannot go to her and de- 

 scribe her; she must speak through your heart. 

 The woods and fields must melt into your mind, 



