Reflections. 129 



and even seem without the pale of the conscience. If he 

 crushes a snail, or barks a tree nature does not revenge 

 herself. 



Yet the ants have a standard of justice among them- 

 selves, that is a conscience as far as their community and 

 species go. Also there is a law among crows, they do 

 not destroy each other's nests. Our own justice hardly 

 steps outside of human affairs, but we owe something to 

 animals. The cow in the field appreciates kindness, and 

 we should strive to please the more helpless creatures, as 

 well as our friend and our kindred. 



Perhaps the chief value of going afield, is that we are 

 judged by a true standard — a dollar isn't worth a cent 

 there. Death is a great leveller it is said, and so is nature's 

 influence. In the city a man is surrounded by artificial 

 conditions and has the help of his fellows, but in the open 

 country he comes more to the realization of himself. A 

 lone journey in the meadows or a day spent silently in 

 the woods, is sobering, and many suffer considerably when 

 thus imprisoned with themselves. They cannot find any- 

 thing of interest in the meadows, they complain of quiet 

 in the midst of warfare, and are generally fretful. 



A man who concerns himself principally with the arti- 

 ficial, and who thinks that the world is for stirring busi- 

 ness alone, misses entirely that divine halo that rests about 

 much in nature. To him all things are certain. He can 

 have a particular tree cut down or an ox killed at com- 

 mand, and he is ever busy spinning a web of affairs. You 

 see him hurrying across the street with rapid strides, for 

 hasn't the Valley railroad declared a dividend! Such 



