338 AROUND AN OLD HOMESTEAD. 



gernaut of the lawn-mower grinds and crushes num- 

 bers of the tiny inhabitants of the grass, and whenever 

 we cut our hay or harvest our grain the merciless sickle 

 slashes and tears them in pieces. It is one of the in- 

 evitable accompaniments of life, even though we wish 

 it not, that in many ways, however unconsciously or 

 unintentionally, we should constantly be causing pain. 

 It is blinded from our eyes, and we do not see it. 



Nature is cruel and merciless, you say. Yes, that 

 is true. Pain falls, in the realms of Nature, as gener- 

 ally upon the weak and defenseless as it does in the 

 case of mankind. But the beautiful and refined lady 

 who has her horses' tails docked and has the wings of 

 a tern in her hat — is she so sweet? Is she not cruel 

 also? That there is cruelty in Nature is true, but 

 cruelty and the infliction of tragedy are not more absent 

 from the life of intelligent men and women. 



Yet alas ! Nature has her tragedies, and has them 

 relentlessly. Even the mosquito has its parasite. The 

 laws of Nature are very inexorable; she is no respecter 

 of persons. Every man — aye, every living being — 

 receives the penalty for a violation of them. I believe 

 that the life of the woods is happier than man's, that 

 there are an unalloyed gladness and a freedom from 

 fear which man generally does not know; but I be- 

 lieve — indeed, I have seen it, and I know — that, with 

 all the coy shyness, real and terrible tragedy is there 

 also. It is especially heartrending to witness tragedy 

 among animals that are particularly attractive and win- 

 some, those that we love. I think of Shakespeare's 

 fine old line, 



"Like sweet bells jangled out of tune, and harsh;'' 



