A NATIVE NATURALIST 243 



they touched a string in me, and that low, rustling, 

 sibilant sound, and mysterious whispering which the 

 wind made in them, was to me a song. There was 

 not even a bird voice to break the silence, except 

 when I disturbed a meadow-pipit and it rose and flew 

 to this side and that in its usual uncertain way, utter- 

 ing its sharp, thin, melancholy note of alarm a sound 

 which serves to intensify the feeling of wildness and 

 to give an expression to earth in lonely desert places. 

 In my visits to the Towans I had a double motive 

 and pleasure : one in communing with nature in that 

 " empty and solitary place," the other in talking with 

 the ferryman who took me to and fro across the river: 

 he was a native of the place, a pure Cornishman in 

 appearance and disposition, and a naturalist. I do not 

 say a " born naturalist " because I fancy we are most 

 of us that, and yet the countryman who is a naturalist 

 is a rarity. As a rule, what he knows about nature 

 and wild life is the little that survives in his memory 

 of all he learnt in his boyhood. He learns a good deal 

 then, when the mind is fresh, the senses keen and the 

 ancient hunting and exploring instincts most active. 

 In woods and wilds the naked savage ran, and the 

 civilised boy still preserves the old tradition, and as 

 he runs he picks up a good deal of knowledge which 

 will be of no use to him. If he is a country boy of 

 the labouring class he no sooner arrives at an age to 

 leave school and idling and do something for a living 

 than the change begins a change which is like a 

 metamorphosis. However small a part he is called 

 on to fill, though he be but a carter's boy, it serves to 



