uctions, and apply them in action as he goes along.
The habit of finding out the best thing to do next and then doing it
is the basis of character. Nature-study, if it be genuine, is
essentially doing. To deal with truth is necessary, if we are to know
truth when we see it in action. The rocks and shells, the frogs and
lilies, always tell the absolute truth. Every leaf on the tree is an
original document in botany. When a thousand are used or used up, the
archives of Nature are just as full as ever. By the study of realities
wisdom is built up. In the relations of objects he can touch and move,
the child finds the limitations of his powers, the laws that govern
phenomena, which his own actions must obey. So long as he deals with
realities, these laws stand in their proper relation. "So simple, so
natural, so true," says Agassiz. "This is the charm of dealing with
nature herself. She brings us back to absolute truth so often as we
wander."

So long as a child is led from one reality to another, never lost in
words or abstractions,--so long this natural relation remains. "What
can I do with it?" is the beginning of wisdom. "What is it to me?" is
the beginning of personal virtue.

By adding near things to near, the child grows in Knowledge.
Knowledge, tested and set in order, is Science. Nature-study is the
beginning of science. It is the science of the child. The "world as
it is" is the province of science. In proportion as our actions
conform to the conditions of the world as it is, do we find the world
beautiful, glorious, divine. The truth of the world as it is must be
the final inspiration of art, poetry, and religion. The world, as men
have agreed to say that it is, is quite another matter. The less our
children hear of this, the less they may have to unlearn. Nature
studies have long been valued as "a means of grace," because they
arouse the enthusiasm, the love of work, which belongs to open-eyed
youth. The child blase with moral precepts and irregular conjugations
turns with fresh delight to the unrolling of ferns or the song of
birds.

Nature must be questioned in earnest, or she will not reply. But to
every serious question she will return a serious answer. "Simple,
natural, and true," she tends to create simplicity and truth. Truth
and virtue are but opposite sides of the same shield. As leaves pass
over into flowers, and flowers into fruit, so are wisdom, virtue, and
happiness inseparably related.

This