136 THE FACE OF THE FIELDS 



that the facts of nature are no longer enough for 

 literature. We know all that our writer knows; 

 we have seen all that he can see. He can no 

 longer surprise us; he can no longer instruct us; 

 he can no longer fool us. The day of the marvel- 

 ous is past; the day of the cum laude cat and the 

 magna cum laude pup is past, the day of the things 

 that I alone have seen is past ; and the day of the 

 things that I, in common with you, have honestly 

 felt, is come. 



There should be no suggestion in a page of 

 nature-writing that the author — penetrated to the 

 heart of some howling summer camp for his raw 

 material ; that he ever sat on his roof or walked 

 across his back yard in order to write a book 

 about it. But nature-books, like other books, are 

 gone for that way — always and solely for the 

 pot. Such books are " copy " only — poor copy 

 at that. There is nothing new in them ; for the 

 only thing you can get by going afar for it is a 

 temptation to lie ; and no matter from what dis- 

 tance you fetch a falsehood — even from the top 

 of the world — you cannot disguise the true com- 

 plexion of it. Take the wings of the morning 

 and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, and 



