€f)t (nature (movement 



age, sex, sort, and condition of Bostonian came around 

 to watch the little beast shuck the nuts and bury them 

 singly in the grass of the Common. 



"Ain't he a cute little cuss, mister?" said the boy 

 of the brush, feeling the bottom of his empty pocket, 

 and looking up into the prosperous face of Calumet 

 and Hecla at his side. C. and H. smiled, slipped some- 

 thing into the boy's hand with which to buy another 

 pocketful of peanuts for Billy, and hurried down to 

 State Street. 



This crowd on the Common is nothing exceptional. 

 It happens every day, and everywhere, the wide coun- 

 try over. We are all stopping to watch, to feed, and — 

 to smile. The longest, most far-reaching pause in our 

 hurrying American life to-day is this halt to look at 

 the out-of-doors, this attempt to share its life ; and 

 nothing more significant is being added to our Amer- 

 ican character than the resulting thoughtfulness, sym- 

 pathy, and simplicity, — the smile on the faces of the 

 crowd hurrying over the Common. 



Whether one will or not, he is caught up by this 

 nature movement and set adrift in the fields. It may, 

 indeed, be "adrift " for him until he gets thankfully 

 back to the city. "It was a raw November day," 



115 



