WAYS OF NATURE 



may have with a dog, simply because he is a dog, 

 and does not invade your own exclusive sphere ! He 

 is, in a way, like your youth come back to you, and 

 taking form — all instinct and joy and adventure. 

 You can ignore him, and he is not offended; you 

 can reprove him, and he still loves you ; you can hail 

 him, and he bounds with joy; you can camp and 

 tramp and ride with him, and his interest and curi- 

 osity and adventurous spirit give to the days and the 

 nights the true holiday atmosphere. With him you 

 are alone and not alone; you have both compan- 

 ionship and solitude. Who would have him more 

 human or less canine.'^ He divines your thought 

 through his love, and feels your will in the glance of 

 your eye. He is not a rational being, yet he is a very 

 susceptible one, and touches us at so many points 

 that we come to look upon him with a fraternal 

 regard. 



I suppose we should not care much for natural 

 history, as I have before said, or for the study of 

 nature generally, if we did not in some way find 

 ourselves there ; that is, something that is akin to 

 our own feelings, methods, and intelligence. We 

 have traveled that road, we find tokens of ourselves 

 on every hand ; we are " stuccoed with quadrupeds 

 and birds all over," as Whitman says. The life- 

 history of the humblest animal, if truly told, is 

 profoundly interesting. If we could know all that 

 befalls the slow moving turtle in the fields, or the 

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