GILBEET white's BOOK 169 



genuine enthusiasm, and permitted no moods, or 

 humors, or bias, or what not, to stand between him 

 and what he saw. His mind transmitted clearly; 

 the image is exact. To be a good observer is not 

 merely to see things: it is to see them in their rela- 

 tions and bearings; it is to separate one thing from 

 another, the wheat from the chaff, the significant 

 from the unimportant. The sagacity of the hound 

 is in his scent, the skill of the musician seems in 

 his hands and fingers, the mind of the observer is 

 in his eye. To untrained perceptions the color of 

 the clouds is this or that, gray, or blue, or drab; 

 the artist picks out the primary tints, the separate 

 colors of which this hue is composed. In like 

 manner the true observer, the true eye-poet or an- 

 alyst, disentangles the facts and threads of meaning 

 of the dumb life about him, and gives you a dis- 

 tinct impression. It is true that White made a 

 business of observing. Por more than forty years 

 he went out daily to take note of what was going 

 on in his open-air parish. He knew his ground by 

 heart, and every new move at once caught his eye. 

 If a new bird appeared upon the scene he was sure 

 to be on hand to take note of it; or if a swallow 

 lingered a little later than usual, or came a day or 

 two earlier, the fact did not escape him. The pine 

 grosbeak is a rare visitant in England, as it is in 

 the United States, yet if one came it was pretty 

 sure to report to White at an early day. 



The hoopoe is also a rare bird there; but one 

 summer a pair took up their abode in an ornamen- 



