In the Christmas Woods. 



wonder would again be beyond our comprehension. 

 Life itself is a greater mystery than its causation. 

 If we could understand even such a comparatively 

 small matter as a bird's way of looking at life, how 

 much of marvel would clear itself in our minds ! 



We cannot understand even that, however. 

 We can only, after all, love and reverence the 

 things of Nature as they seem to us good and help- 

 ful, and come into the use through recognition of 

 the beauty. They are facts, as we, ourselves, are 

 facts, and in reality we understand them about 

 equally well as we understand our own hearts and 

 lives. A wee humming-bird flew about my head 

 yesterday, poised, on swift wings, directly before 

 my face, and I looked into his bright, fearless eyes. 

 I do not know what he thought of me ; but neither 

 do I know, really, what I thought of him. Our 

 lives touched, for the brief instant of that glance, 

 and through him came to me a thought of human 

 love. I was better for the encounter, and I do not 

 think that he was worse. 



Here where the earth has slid away from the 

 roots of a great redwood stump I have found a long, 

 creeping rootstock of the Solomon's seal, with no 

 less than ten round, seal-like impressions left by 

 past shoots. At some time in its growth the plant 

 encountered an obstacle in the shape of a strong, 

 outstretching arm of redwood root. The tender 

 growth, striking against this, from beneath, was 

 turned backward, and downward, until, feeling its 

 way cautiously in the dark, it traveled around the 



H 



