Page:The Strand Magazine (Volume 3).djvu/399

 wearied, unconquerable power, the wild, various, fantastic, tameless unity of the sea; what shall we compare to this mighty, this universal element for glory and for beauty? or how shall we follow its eternal changefulness of feeling? It is like trying to paint a soul."

At the water's edge flowers are especially varied and luxuriant, so that the banks of a river are a long natural garden of tall and graceful grasses and sedges, the Flowering Rush, the Sweet Flag, the Bull Rush, Purple Loosestrife, Hemp Agrimony, Forget-me-not, and a hundred more; backed by Willows, Alders, Poplars, and other trees.

The animal world, if less conspicuous to the eye, is quite as fascinating to the imagination. Here and there a speckled trout may be detected (rather by the shadow than the substance) suspended in the clear water, or darting across a shallow. If we are quiet we may see water-hens or wild ducks swimming among the lilies, a kingfisher sitting on a branch or flashing away like a gleam of light; a solemn heron stands, maybe, at the water's edge, or slowly rises flapping his great wings; water rats, neat and clean little creatures, very different from their coarse brown namesakes of the land, are abundant everywhere; nor need we even yet quite despair of seeing the otter himself.

Insects, of course, are gay, lively, and innumerable; but, after all, the richest fauna is that visible only with a microscope.

"To gaze," says Dr. Hudson, "into that wonderful world which lies in a drop of water, crossed by some stems of green weed, to see transparent living mechanism at work, and to gain some idea of its modes of action, to watch a tiny speck that can sail through the prick of a needle's point, to see its crystal armour flashing with ever-varying tint, its head glorious with the halo of its quivering cilia; to see it gliding through the emerald stems, hunting for its food, snatching at its prey, fleeing from its enemy, chasing its mate (the fiercest of our passions blazing in an invisible speck); to see it whirling in a mad dance, to the sound of its own music, the music of its happiness, the exquisite happiness of living—can anyone who has once enjoyed this sight ever turn from it to mere books and drawings without the sense that he has left all fairyland behind him?"

The study of natural history has indeed the special advantage of carrying us into the country and the open air.

Lakes are even more restful than rivers or the sea. Rivers are always flowing, though it may be but slowly; the sea may rest awhile, now and then, but is generally full of action and energy, while lakes seem to sleep and dream. Lakes in a beautiful country are like silver ornaments on a lovely dress, like liquid gems in a beautiful setting, or bright eyes in a lovely face. Indeed, as we look down on a lake from some hill or cliff it almost looks solid, like some great blue crystal. It is interesting and delightful to trace a river from its source to the sea.

"Beginning at the hill-top," says Geikie, "we first meet with the spring, or 'well-