Impressions 



The glittering dew-drops, whether on cob- 

 webs or on the grass, continually recall an Al- 

 pine morning when the world sparkled as it has 

 not done since. I made prompt record of it at 

 the time, fearing some minor detail might es- 

 cape. 



By so much as the thickness of a pane of 

 glass we may be kept hopelessly far from the 

 actuality of Nature. He whom we pass by un- 

 heeded is but a man to us, but when we stop 

 and shake his hand and, eye meeting eye, 

 say, "I am glad to have met you," we are face 

 to face with a friend. So is it when we are out- 

 of-doors. It is not enough to walk the length 

 of any beaten path or make a short cut across 

 untrodden fields. Nature is there, it is true, 

 but not as a friend, — as a stranger. We can 

 never stand as far aloof from Nature as she 

 forever stands aloof from us. We think too 

 highly of ourselves and too lightly of that upon 

 which we are irremediably dependent; hence 

 the widespread ignorance which matters nothing 

 to Nature, but everything to ourselves. The 

 seasons come and go; winter's austerity and 

 summer's genial ways are not solely for man's 

 welfare. They were the way of the world be- 



41 



