INTRODUCTION 



ON THE LOVE OF NATURE 



By WALTER CRANE 



THE tendency of modern civnlised life 

 seems, unhappily, to remove man- 

 kind more and more from close touch 

 and sympathy with wild Nature. The 

 town-dweller, for the most part, has to be 

 content with such piecemeal substitutes 

 for the green and open country as he 

 may find in our public parks and gardens, 

 and those rare green oases in the midst 

 of our arid wastes of bricks and mortar, 

 w^here it is still possible to see grass and 

 flowers and leafy boughs, where the 

 chirp of the dauntless London sparrow 

 mingles with the softer note of the blue 

 rock, which now almost competes with 

 the ubiquitous bird of Venus, as the 

 camp follower of man and the haunter 

 of cities. 



It is true there is an abundance of 

 literature which makes constant appeals 

 to the love of Nature, as well as to the 

 desire of more knowledge of country life. 

 Our newsj)apers frequently have articles 

 to remind us of the changes of the seasons 

 — over and above the daily weather 

 report and forecast — recalling the quiet 

 persistent life of the birds, and the never- 

 ending wonder of their annual migrations. 



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The writers, however, frequently appeal 

 to the sporting instinct, which, perhaps, 

 had at all times much to do with forming 

 the habit of observation of Nature in 

 man. For direct knowledge of the appear- 

 ance of wild birds and animals in their 

 natural habitat we are now more in- 

 debted to the patient photographic artist, 

 with his frequently quite remarkable 

 resources and ingenuity in obtaining his 

 marvellous results. 



Nothing, however, can quite compen- 

 sate for the absence of those early impres- 

 sions of a childhood passed in the country, 

 when almost unconsciously a knowledge 

 of the familiar trees, wild flowers, birds 

 and animals and their habits, is acquired 

 in the course of a life spent mostly out 

 of doors in the woods and fields. Those 

 who have such early memories seldom, 

 I think, lose their love of Nature, and 

 generally cherish a longing to return to 

 the scenes of their youth. Even the 

 t(nvn bred man may be at times conscious 

 of a certain hunger for wild Nature, weary 

 of the monotony of joyless, treeless 

 streets, or touched by the pathetic re- 

 sponse of struggling bulbs in glasses or 



