126 THE FACE OF THE FIELDS 



As between himself and nature, then, the thor- 

 oughly good nature-writer is in love — a purely 

 personal state; lyric, emotional, rather than sci- 

 entific, wherein the writer is not so much con- 

 cerned with the facts of nature as with his view 

 of them, his feelings for them, as they environ 

 and interpret him, or as he centres and interprets 

 them. 



Were this all, it would be a simple story of 

 love. Unfortunately, nature-writing has become 

 an art, which means some one looking on, and 

 hence it means self-consciousness and adaptation, 

 the writer forced to play the difficult part of 

 loving his theme not less, but loving his reader 

 more. 



For the reader, then, his test of the nature-writer 

 will be the extreme test of sincerity. The nature- 

 writer (and the poet) more than many writers is 

 limited by decree to his experiences — not to 

 what he has seen or heard only, but as strictly to 

 what he has truly felt. All writing must be sin- 

 cere. Is it that nature-writing and poetry must 

 be spontaneously sincere ? Sincerity is the first 

 and greatest of the literary commandments. The 

 second is like unto the first. Still there is con- 



