WITH THE EDITOR
ONE of the best tendencies of the summer is to bring us into closer touch with nature. When the lawns and fields are grass-covered and the trees green overhead, we are drawn from our artificial winter life to earth and nature. We have been associated with the earth through too many centuries to deny its hold upon us now. This indoor life is a comparatively recent fad. As yet we have not forgotten that we are creatures of the dust.
In the old Greek mythology there was a character, Antæus by name, of whom it was said that his strength increased tenfold every time he touched the soil. To be conquered he must be lifted from the earth.
Perhaps this is applicable to us all. Are we not stronger for our contact with nature? Are we not better able to meet the modern Hercules when he comes to us in the guise of ill health? Certainly we would be but poor creatures were it not for the woods, fields, and mountains.
Aside from the matter of health, it would be difficult to say in just what way nature helps us. Without effort on our part we can get nothing from her. To learn her secrets we must already be armed with knowledge, or, if not this, then with the keenest of vision and hearing. Perhaps, most of all, the benefit lies merely in our contact with the out-of-door world, just as there is in any uplifting companionship. Is there not something inspiring to us all in the mountain’s grandeur, the hemlock’s silent depths, or the green vista of rolling meadows? In any event, we are the better for being in touch with nature. Let us all, therefore, strive to be naturalists.
By this we do not mean for boys and girls to learn the classification of birds and plants. In the broad sense the naturalist is one who enjoys the out-of-door world. Then, surely, some one will say, we are all naturalists, for who does not take delight in nature? We grant this, but, on the other hand, how many of us get the full measure? It is just as reasonable to expect a young person to get the utmost enjoyment amid a party of strangers as to believe that the uninitiated boy or girl will derive the full pleasure from a walk in the woods. In the unlearned, what interest is awakened by the little pink flower half buried by last year’s leaves, or the unknown bird-note which comes from the leafy maze overhead? They are but as the casual voice of the stranger whom we pass unheeded in the city street. But learn to know and welcome them as friends, and each tiny flower and cheery bird-note will bring with it a charm that deepens with every return.
On our part two things are needful. First, we must cultivate our powers of observation, that we may see and hear and know the beauties of the animate world about us. Next, that we look upon each bird and butterfly and flower as a friend bringing to us direct from nature that simple joy and inspiration which is always new and—to those who live in the city—always necessary.