shake by the cat. It was a sort of dreamy condition, in which there was neither sensation of pain nor feeling of terror, although I was absolutely conscious of all that was taking place. Fear did not exist for me, and I could look at the animal without horror. This particular state is probably produced in all animals killed by carnivora."

Whymper, describing his fall from the top of the Matterhorn, says that he was conscious of what was happening, and counted every bump, but "felt no pain. What is even more remarkable is, that my bounds through space were not at all disagreeable; however, if the distance had been a little more considerable, I believe I should completely have lost consciousness; therefore I am convinced that death, when caused by a fall from a considerable height, is one of the least painful which one can undergo."*

Another common form of death-that by drowning -is also comparatively painless. Here I can speak from personal experience, having on one occasion practically lost consciousness, and therefore gone through what suffering there was.

* Deshumbert, Ethics of Nature.

Animals, I presume, do not suffer from anxiety, and on the whole they have, I believe, in their lives, much joy and pleasure, with comparatively little suffering. We are indebted for this comforting reflection mainly to science. Among its innumerable benefits we owe to it our appreciation and enjoyment of Nature. In fact, we have not only been relieved from the terrible dread of magical powers, but been endowed with that love of Nature which is one of the greatest blessings in life we owe to science.

CHAPTER XII.

THE LOVE OF NATURE.

IF spring came but once in a lifetime; if the sun rose and set once in a year instead of once in a day; if a rainbow appeared once in a century; if flowers were as rare as rubies, and dew-drops as diamonds,how wonderful they would seem, how they would astonish and delight us!

.

We undervalue them because they are lavished on us. The very word "common" most improperly implies some disparagement. If we trained our minds properly

in the appreciation of beauty, we should, on the contrary, wonder at and admire them all the more. Goethe observes that if a rainbow lasts for a quarter of an hour no one looks at it any longer. The commonest things are the best and most necessary:

The meanest floweret of the vale,

The simplest note that swells the gale,
The common sun, the air, the skies,

To him are opening Paradise.

As Sir Walter Scott said, "Nothing really worth having or caring about in this world is uncommon."

Flowers are marvellous in the inexhaustible variety

of form and colour which

Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on.*

Moreover, the innumerable devices by which they fulfil their great functions are most interesting.

The very names of plants are themselves delightful, and suggest delightful ideas; they seem redolent of delicious and aromatic scents; they are bright with colour, pink and rose and violet, orange and lemon; they suggest nymphs and graces, elves and fairies. In times of trouble or anxiety the lover of trees will often feel with Tennyson that

* Shakespeare.

The woods were filled so full of song

There seemed no room for sense of wrong.

Cicero seems to have thought that admiration of mountain beauty could only be accounted for by the love of home. It is possible, he admits, to take a delight even "in the very mountainous and woody scenery, if we have long dwelt in it." How much truer is the view of Tennyson:

How faintly-flush'd, how phantom-fair,
Was Monte Rosa, hanging there

A thousand shadowy-pencill'd valleys
And snowy dells in a golden air.

Ruskin also speaks of "the precipice which has submitted to no modulation of the torrent, and the peak which has bowed itself to no terror of the storm." Wisely are we told that we should lift up our "eyes unto the hills from whence cometh our help." Indeed, if we owe much to men of science we owe much also to poets for our appreciation of Nature. "The feeding of the rivers and the purifying of the winds are the least of the services appointed to the hills. To fill the thirst of the human heart for the beauty of God's working, to startle its lethargy with the deep and pure agitation of astonishment, are their higher missions. They

are as a great and noble architecture; first giving shelter, comfort, and rest; and covered also with mighty sculpture and painted legend."*

The sky, again, affords those who know how to see, an inexhaustible object of wonder, admiration, and delight. By day we cannot admire too much the brilliance and magnificence of the sun, which, moreover, seems to grow greater and more beautiful as it approaches the horizon; and yet when it has finally set, when the moon rises in all her exquisite beauty, and the whole heaven sparkles with innumerable stars, we see that the sun hides even more than it reveals. Night reveals much which is invisible by day.

Soon as the evening shades prevail,

The moon takes up the wondrous tale,
And nightly to the listening earth,

Repeats the story of her birth;

While all the stars that round her burn

And all the planets in their turn

Confirm the tidings as they roll,

And spread the truth from pole to pole.**

The night seems made for peace and rest.

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
Here will we sit and let the sounds of music