Growing things all mean real things; so do the stones in the stone-wall,
and the gravel on the road, and the very breeze that blows in our
faces,--all and each have a significance which does not at once meet
the outward eye.

It would be very delightful, and certainly very useful, if, besides
this friendliness in Nature, you could learn some of the special values
of Nature, as shown by science. A botanist has fuller joy in flowers
and ferns and grasses than a mere observer of them, and a geologist
has more pleasure in rocks than he who remarks them for their beauty's
sake. Still, this friendship and this general observation had to come
before the scientific knowledge was possible. I have great sympathy
for those who, while ignorant of technicalities, love objects for just
simply the things themselves.

When you begin to get acquainted with the externals of Nature, then,
of course, you will ask how they are made; and the lessons of science
will attract you. Looking at the smoothness of the rounded stones,
you will be led to examine their ancient homes beneath the waves;
noticing the long straight lines on the rocks, you will wander back to
the period when ice covered the land, and the earth was wrapped in
chaotic gloom. Observe, only observe! and curiosity will press for you
the very secrets out of the woods, the streams, the skies. Look around
you! There is such an infinite number of objects to consider right about
your own porch-door,--the lichens on the door-stone, the apple-tree
shading the path, the striped pebble that you kick aside, the plant
pressing up between the boards, the dew shimmering on the weed.
Investigate all your surroundings, especially the small, neglected
places, and try to have an opinion about what you observe. A busy man, a
merchant, noticed, some time ago, a thistle growing by the wayside. He