t^t (Tlahirc^^htbcnt 



a fearful piece of mechanism. I appreciate that. But 

 what is any system of nerves or muscles — mere 

 dead dog — compared with the love and affection 

 of the dog alive ?" 



The professor was trying to make a biologist out 

 of me. He had worked faithfully, but I had persisted 

 in a very unscientific love for live dog. Not that I 

 didn't enjoy comparative anatomy, for I did. The 

 problem of concrescence or differentiation in the 

 cod's egg also was intensely interesting to me. And 

 so was the sight and the suggestion of the herring 

 as they crowded up the run on their way to the 

 spawning pond. The professor had lost patience. I 

 don't blame him. 



" Well," he said, turning abruptly, " you had better 

 quit. You '11 be only a biological fifth wheel." 



I quit. Here on my table lies the scalpel. Since 

 that day it has only sharpened lead pencils. 



Now a somewhat extensive acquaintance with sci- 

 entific folk leads me to believe that the attitude of 

 my professor toward the out-of-doors is not excep- 

 tional. The love for nature is all moonshine, all 

 maudlin sentiment. Even those like my professor, 

 who have to do with out-of-door life and conditions, 



57 



