The Plymouth tribune. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1901-1911, 1906-03-15
WONDERFUL SIGHTS.
That May Be Seen by Making Use
of the Eyes God Gave Us.

The Indian having to depend large
ly upon his vision in his chase for
food, is noted for his keen sight. Thus
one can find an Indian following a
rabbit across an open field, just as in
this country boy follows rabbit
when there is snow upon the ground.
To the white mau there are no visible
tracks of the rabbit in the grass, but
your Indian will point out to you the
identical place upon the sod where
the rabbit has set foot He will show
you how the tender blades of grass
are here bent down, how leaf has
been disturbed, how briar was hang
ing to its tiniest hair. But the Indian
does not see the landscape, nor the
beauties of the heavens. His eye has
ben trained in another direction. The
sunset means nothing to him, nor the
moon nor the stars, nor the clouds
forming and reforming into a million
beautiful shapes and hues.
Thoreau was probably one of the
greatest seers this country has ever
produced. He could see the rabbits
trail across the sod, and he could
spend hours seeing the glories of the
sky. He told of the great beauties
of the mountain sides, and of the
equally great beauties of dried leaf.
Summer or winter, there was always
something for the wonderful Thor
eau to behold, and he beheld it in all
of its gorgeousness, whether it was
the radiant streak of a cardinal dart
ing across the shrubbery, or the
soothing green of the lichens upon an
old rail fence. There was always gor-
geousness to him-to the man behind
his eyes.
We get out of life what we put in
to it. There are pictures for those
who would see them, music for those
who would hear The Attic Philos-
opher of Paris, living high up in a
garret, wrote chapters about the
roofs of houses, the cutters, and the
smoke, the ssot, the dirt He found
beauty in it all, lessons in everything.
Listen to him as he tells about it
Il open my window and the pros
pect of roofs opens before me in all
its splendor. He who has only lived
on a first floor has no idea of the
picturesque variety of such a view.
He has never contemplated these tile
colored heights which intersect each
other; he has not followed with his
eyes these gutter valleys, where the
fresh verdure of the attic gardens
waves the deep shadows which even
ing spreads over the slated slopes,
and the sparkling of windows which
the setting sun has kindled to blaze
of fire. He has not studied the flora
of these Alps of civilization, carpeted
by lichens and mosses he is not ac-
quainted with the thousand inhabi-
tants which people them from the
microscopic insect to the domestic
cat; he has not witnessed the thous-
and aspects of clear or cloudy sky,
nor the thousand effects. of light
which make these upper regions a
theater with everchanging scenes.
All, there was your seer, par ex-
cellence. There was your man behind
the eyes-eyes which poverty could
not dim. There was your man who
saw things, and, in seeing, loved life
Hear him a moment longer as he
closes the chapter:
"How many times have my days ol
leisure passed away in contemplating
this wonderful sight, in discovering
its darker or brighter episodes, in
seeking, in short, in this unknown
world for the impressions of travel
mig that wealthy tourists look fol-
lower down."
This world, this city, this country
is grand symphony, royal paint
ing, a concert prepared by the gods
the scenery touched by the creates
of all Artists-glorious in all its as
poets, mighty in its proportions, in
spring in its designs. Look at it
see it, and, if you are not now, let j
make Man behind your eyes.
E. L. B. in South Bend Times