76 NATURE IN A CITY YARD 



ing, for it looked as if we had discovered 

 moles ; but on penetrating their supposed 

 tunnel, it was found to be caused by the 

 soil working out under the fence into the 

 carpenter's yard, which is a foot or so lower 

 than ours. But there is some instinct in 

 us, dating back to more-times-great-grand- 

 fathers than we would try to enumerate, 

 that bids us dig, and there is a natural 

 conscience that approves when we have 

 put in and covered the seeds. The world 

 is going to be richer for our day's work, 

 and when we come in with lame back and 

 trembling hands, marveling that physical 

 labor should be so hard to the unaccus- 

 tomed, we feel a glow of pride, and an as- 

 surance that we have earned sleep and a 

 dinner. Better, we have earned health. 

 We have no pessimism where green things 

 are and people dig for their dinners. Pes- 

 simism is worse than tragedy: it is a 

 tragedy of the soul ; the attribute of a 

 tired-out race. When we keep in touch 

 with nature we share her splendid life. 



On the day in early March when, for the 

 first time in the year, I saunter forth with- 

 out an overcoat, with the youngsters in 



