Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1918-08-14
THE GOWNSMAN
Does the Naturalist Love Nature?


animal world. There is little that a rational
animal learn about man that is likely
to inspire anything except terror and dis
gust. The beasts do not talk-at least out
side of German folklore and beast-lore.
which appear to be much the same thing.
And If the beasts could talk they might not
only explode some of our fctions about their
merely manlike intelligence, but lead us into
an agreement with the perverse opinion of
Life on the subject Of vivisecton.
YOUR Gownsman is bit of lover Of
i nature himself, in an indolent and inter-
mittent way. He is no naturalist in any
sense of that abused designation. He ad-
mires science, as already implicitly stated,
but does not like her superior and super
cilious manners and would dislike exceed
ingy-should she ever so condescend-to
have her turn her cold. searching eyes on him
or anything that he loves. Should the
Gowrsnnan ever botanize-as he once ento-
moogzed-he will not pluck flowers for
microscopic scrutiny from his grandmother's
grave. Above all. the Gownsman is no
sportsman and looks with horror on the Eng
lishmans alleged ideal of holiday: Come.
T THIS moment your Gownsman is sit
n ting bucolically at the foot of an ancient
apple tree, with thickets of wild cherry.
blackberres and ferns encroachng as con-
fusedly and inartistically as nature can grow
such things in their completest dishevelment.
Near by is a boulder of granite that would
cover fair-sized city lot. 1t is close enough
to show the splashes of lichen which radiate
from dark centers and fringe white on the
edges. branch, weighed down from the
tree behind it, has thrown a cluster of light
green apples over the boulder with the
abandon of white arm about lovers neck.
In front the blades and ears of grass fringe
upward the irregular apple branches down.
ward, framing distant forests of deep green
l,tllg V1tnrr nIoc nf
violet and blue they recede in remoteness
The field stretches in the foreground fore
ward and downward fecked, in the tawny
green of standing grass, the Gownsman, bad
husbandman, is sorry to have to say, with
splotches of shining white, which he is in
formed are wild parsnips, dsreputabie
weed, which really has no place on any
decent farm or in any well-constructed land
scape.
Il cowbells, the sighing-not soughing-of
the wind in the trees overhead the hum of
bees in busy passage to and fro and the hut-
ter of wings In the thckets. There follows
the twtter of swallows In flight from the
great barn not far away and a bubbling song
of gladness from some winged seraph, a
lovely musical phrase which, could the musi-
clan catch 1t. might be worked into a ravish-
ing human melody. Other sounds come to
| the ear which will hear them. thrush in the
| is his secret whether he is far off or near.
| The indolent Gownsman has received morn
| ing call from eight or nine different families
| of birds since he sat down in this spot. He
| was interrupted just now to return the salu-
tations of a persistent little fellow with a
| white bib and wearing white-striped
head-dre who reiterated How do you do ~
in a language of liquid sweetness long drawn
out but, as he left no visiting card, your
ignorant Gownsman cannot tell whether he
was really a white-throat or only vesper
| a song-sparrow or hedge-sparrow with the
| light of the sun and imagination shining or
| him
| COMEWHERE, Oliver Wendell Holme:
| - suggests the charming thought that on the
| outskirts of every town the grass and ths
| flowers are continually conspiring to Greer
] in to cover, to make beautiful the uglines!
| of the temporary structures of men. On the
| shore we pick up a white pebble: II Is lighter
| than usual II is the piece OF a bone OF deat
| fish, cleansed and purified by the sun. shaped
| to roundness. smoothness and consistency, a.
| an atom in the silver strand. We may har
| row the land and out OF our narrowing
| bring uglness and plenty. But even viii
forests leveed we can spoil little or th'
earths perennial green. We may toll too. OF
| the sea- but We cannot destroy the water
| eternal splendor. BY land or sea. 1t matter
| not, nature can wait. We only are the thing
| of the moment. And we end as we begai
| without a definition of Mature" or OF ou
return" to our brown Mother Earth, which
when all is said. seems the only certain thing
| Is your Gownsman a ncientist that ne mus
b forever dsdningf ss