The Mature 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,” 
IIs 
