THE WILDERNESS / 203 



Nature into the crowded haunts of men, we all know the ubiquity 

 of the bird, and in regard to vegetable life, it was found a few 

 years since that no less than twenty-eight wild flowering plants 

 had established themselves within two years on a building plot 

 in Farringdon Street struggling to see the skies. Nevertheless, 

 the city somehow deadens that finer sense of the potencies of 

 Nature which cannot fail to awaken in the wilderness. 



Emerson reminds us that in solitary places, at the gates of 

 the forest, is to be found a sanctity which shames our religions, 

 and somewhere speaks of this enchantment as medicinal for body 

 and soul. 



" The forest is my loyal friend, like God it useth me." 



He says the meeting of the sky and earth may be seen from the 

 nearest hillock, as well as from the tops of the Alleghanies. And 

 we are elsewhere admonished that differences exist, not so much 

 in Nature, as in the eye of the beholder. 



The Naturalist, dealing with a first-hand study of live, not 

 dead, things, does not suffer from the limitations incident to 

 certain specialists. However grouped or distributed, all the 

 subjects of his study are, more or less, interdependent, and bound 

 together, so that he can, like Macgillivray the ornithologist, take 

 all natural science for his province. 



A sincere study of Nature seems calculated to inspire, if not 

 a scientific, a sympathetic imagination, and a livelier feeling for 

 " things both great and small." Its service will stir the heart as 

 well as the intellect. The better we understand our neighbours, 

 the more we learn the fascinating life histories of plants and 

 animals, the kindlier is the interest we are inclined to take in 

 them. And the fuller knowledge we get of sentient life generally, 

 the clearer will grow our insight into the marvellous environment 

 which hems us all in. 



Our motto here in the wilderness may appropriately be that 

 of our English Nature Poet : "To the solid ground of Nature 

 trusts the mind which builds for aye," and I may well conclude 

 by quoting some striking aphorisms of Goethe, translated by 

 Huxley. As these are as arresting to-day as when written, no 

 apology is needed for recalling some of them : 



" Nature ! She surrounds us and locks us in her grasp : 

 powerless to leave her, and powerless to come closer to her. She 

 speaks to us incessantly, yet betrays not her secret. Individuality 

 seems to be all her aim, and she cares nothing for individuals. 



