,transcriber's ,notes3    ,text enclosed
 by underscores is in italics 7italics74
    ,additional ,transcriber's ,notes   
are at the end4           99       99   
99       99       99          ,,god',s  
,,country ,the ,trail to ,happiness     
,by    ,,james ,,oliver ,,curwood       
,author of    ,the ,valley of ,silent   
,men    ,the ,river's ,end1 etc4        
,illustration      ,,new ,,york         
,cosmopolitan ,book ,corporation        
,,mcmxxi           99       99       99 
99       99      ,copyright1 #aiba1 by  
,,cosmopolitan ,,book ,,corporation     
,all rights reserved1 including that of 
translation    into foreign languages1  
including the ,scandinavian             
,,printed ,,in ,,the ,,united ,,states  
,,of ,,america      ,the ,quinn  ,boden 
,company    ,,book ,,manufacturers      
,,rahway ,,new ,,jersey          ,the   
,four ,trails to ,happiness             
,,page      ,the ,first ,trail ,,my     
,,secret ,,of ,,happiness  #c      ,the 
,second ,trail ,i ,,become ,a ,,killer  

#bi      ,the ,third ,trail ,,my        
,,brotherhood         #ec      ,the     
,fourth ,trail ,,the ,,road ,,to ,,faith
     #hc           99       99       99 
99       99    ,the ,first ,trail ,,my  
,,secret ,,of ,,happiness           99  
99       99       99       99           
,the ,first ,trail ,,my ,,secret ,,of   
,,happiness      ,to-night ,i am in a   
little cabin in the heart of a great    
wilderness4  ,outside it is dark4 ,i can
 hear the wind sighing in the thick     
spruce  tops4 ,i hear the laughter of a 
stream out of which ,i took my supper   
of trout4 ,the ,people of the ,night are
 awake1 for a little while ago ,i  heard
 a wolf howl1 and1 not far away1 in an  
old stub1 lives an owl that  hoots at   
the light in my window4 ,i think it's   
going to storm4 ,there  is a heaviness  
in the air1 and1 in the drowse of it1   
the sweetness of  distant rain4    ,i am
 strangely contented as ,i start the    
writing of this strangest of  all the   
things ,i have written4 ,i had never    

thought to give voice to the  things    
that ,i am about to put on paper2 yet   
have ,i dreamed that every  soul in the 
world might know of them4 ,but the task 
has seemed too great  for me1 and ,i    
have kept them within myself1 expecting 
them to live and  die there4    ,i am   
contented on this black night1 with its 
promise of storm1 for  many             
reasons--though ,i am in the heart of a 
peopleless forest fifteen  hundred miles
 from my city home4 ,in the first place1
 ,i have built1  with my own hands1 this
 cabin that shelters me4 ,my palms are  
still  blistered by the helve of the ax4
 ,i am the architect of the fireplace   
of stone and mud in which a small fire  
burns for cheer1 though it is  late     
spring1 with summer in the breath of the
 forests4 ,i have made the  chair in    
which ,i sit and the table on which ,i  
write1 and the builder of  a marble     
palace could take no greater pleasure in
 his achievement than  have ,i4    ,i am
 contented because1 just now1 ,i have   

the strange conviction that1  in this   
wild and peopleless place1 ,i am very   
close to that which many  peoples have  
sought through many ages and have not   
found4    ,in the distance1 ,i can hear 
thunder1 and a flash of lightning       
illumines  my window4 ,a cry of a loon  
comes with the flash4 ,it is strange2 it
  is weird--and wonderful4 ,and also1 in
 a way1 it has just occurred  to me that
 it is a fitting kind of night to begin 
that which ,i have  been asked to write4
 ,for this night1 for a short space1    
will be like  the great world at        
large--a world that is rocking in the   
throes of a  mighty tumult--a tumult of 
unrest1 of discontent1 of mad strivings1
  of despair1 and lack of faith--a world
 that is rushing blindfold into  unknown
 things1 that is seeking rest and peace1
 yet can never find them4    ,it is1 ,i 
repeat1 a strange night to begin the    
writing of that which ,i  have been     
asked to write1 and yet ,i do not think 
that ,i would have the  night changed4  

,it seems to picture to me more vividly 
the unrest of the  world fifteen hundred
 miles away--and fifteen thousand miles 
away4 ,i  seem to see with clearer      
vision what has happened during the past
 two  years--the mad questing of a      
thousand million people for a spiritual 
thing which they cannot find4 ,i see1   
from this vantage-point of the  deep    
forest1 a world torn by five hundred    
schisms and religions1 and ,i  see not  
one religion that fills the soul with   
faith and confidence4 ,i  see the       
multitudes of the earth reaching up     
their arms and crying for  the ,great   
,mystery of life to be solved4          
,questions that are racking the  earth  
come to me in the whisperings of the    
approaching storm4 ,can the  ghosts of  
the dead return8 ,can the spirits of the
 departed commune with  the living8 ,is 
the world on the edge of an inundation  
of spiritualism8  ,does the salvation of
 humanity lie there--or there--or there8
 ,what  shall ,i believe8 ,what can ,i  

believe8    ,the rain is beginning to   
beat on the roof of my cabin and1 in    
number1  the drops of the rain remind me
 of the millions and the tens of        
millions of restless men and women who  
are reading avidly1 in the pages  of    
magazines and books1 the 8experiences0  
of those who are giving voice  to new   
creeds and new beliefs or reviving old  
ones long lost in the  dust of forgotten
 ages4    ,ghosts have been revived2    
spirits are on the move again4 ,new     
generations are drinking in with wonder 
and suspense the whole bagful  of tricks
 worn out ten thousand generations ago4 
,to-morrow it may be  the revival of    
witchcraft4 ,and the next day new       
prophets may arise  and new religions   
take the place of the old4 ,for so      
travel the minds  of men2 and so they   
have traveled for hundreds of thousands 
of years  before ,christ was born and   
,christianity was known2 and so they    
will go  on seeking until ,god is found 
in a form so simple and intimate that   

all  humanity will at last understand4  
,the storm has broken4 ,it is like a    
deluge over the cabin4 ,the thunder  and
 crash of it is in the spruce tops--and 
such is the dreadfulness of  the tumult 
and the aloneness of the place that ,i  
am in1 that ,i would  cease where ,i am 
did ,i think that anything ,i am about  
to say might be  sacrilege4 ,but when a 
mind gives expression to that which it  
holds as  truth1 there cannot be        
sacrilege4    ,i have been asked to put 
on paper something of that religion     
which ,i  have discovered for myself in 
nature4 ,there are many who will laugh2 
there are many who will disbelieve1 for 
it will be impossible for me to  make   
myself entirely clear in such a matter  
as this4 ,for ,i have found  what1 to   
me1 is ,god2 and ,i cannot expect to    
startle the world1 even  if ,i desired  
to do so1 for what ,i have found has    
been found in a very  simple            
way--without bringing spirits back from 
the dead1 or hearing  voices out of     

tombs1 or gathering faith through the   
inspiration of  mediums4    ,i have     
found the heart of nature4 ,i believe   
that its doors have  opened to me1 and  
that ,i have learned much of its        
language4 ,through  adventure and       
bloodshed ,i have come to a great       
understanding2 and  understanding has   
brought me health and faith and a joy in
 life4 ,and  because these things will  
do the world no harm1 and may do some   
good1  ,i am undertaking to write the   
story of a great and inclusive ,god whom
  men and women and little children     
should be made to know1 but to  whom1   
unfortunately1 the swift pace of the    
times has made most of us  strangers4   
,i fear that ,i am going to shock many  
people1 and so ,i am of a mind  to get  
the shock over with and come to the meat
 of what ,i have to  say4 ,but ,i shall 
start with something which those who    
read this must  concede--that everyone  
in the world seems to be looking for    
something  which will bring him more    

comfort and more happiness from life4   
,that1  ,i think1 is the reason the     
,catholic ,church is the only ,church   
which  is growing to any extent4 ,it is 
growing because it is the only ,church  
which is holding out its arms as a      
mother and giving a human being a       
breast upon which to lay his head when  
he is in trouble4 ,yet ,i am not  a     
,catholic4 ,neither am ,i a ,protestant4
 ,i do not belong to the ,high1  ,low1  
,broad1 or ,free ,church4 ,i do not     
confess to ,romanism1 ,popery1 or       
,protestantism any more than ,i do to   
,mohammedanism1 ,calvinism1 or the      
doctrines of the ,latter-,day ,saints4  
,i am not a sectarian any more  than ,i 
am a ,shaker or a ,restitutionist4 ,i do
 not believe that one  necessarily goes 
to hell because he does not accept      
,christ as the ,son  of ,god4 ,i believe
 that ,christ was a good man and a great
 teacher of  his times1 just as there   
have been other good men and great      
teachers  in their times4 ,i can look   

upon the ,mussulman at prayer1 or the   
,parsee  at his devotion1 or the ,eskimo
 calling upon his unseen spirits with   
the same feeling of brotherhood and     
understanding that ,i can see a         
congregation of ,baptists or ,methodists
 singing their praise to the ,god  on   
high4 ,i do not pity or condemn the     
,african savage and the ,indian of  the 
,great ,barrens because they see their  
,god through another vision  than that  
of the ,christian4 ,there were many     
roads that led to old ,rome4  ,and there
 are many roads1 no matter how twisted  
and dark they seem to  us1 that lead to 
the better after-life4    ,i wish that  
some mighty power would rise that could 
show to man how  little and how         
insignificant he is4 ,only therein1 ,i  
think1 could the  thorns and brambles be
 taken out of that path to peace and    
contentment  which he would like to     
find1 and would find if he were not     
blinded  by his own importance4 ,he is  
the supreme egoist and monopolist4 ,his 

conceit and self-sufficiency are at     
times almost blasphemous4 ,he is  the   
human peacock1 puffed up1 inflated1     
flushed in the conviction  that         
everything in the universe was made for 
him4 ,he looks down in  supercilious    
lordship on all other life in creation4 
,he goes out and  murders millions of   
his kind with his scientific inventions2
 yet he  calls a tiger bad and a pest   
because the tiger occasionally kills the
  two-legged thing that hunts it4 ,if he
 kills a man illegally1 it is  called   
murder1 and he is hanged and goes to    
hell4 ,if his government  tells him it  
is proper to kill a thousand men1 he    
kills them1 and is  called a hero--and a
 chosen place is kept waiting for him in
 heaven4  ,his conceit blinds him to    
fact4 ,he thinks our little earth was   
the  chosen creation of the ,supreme    
,power--forgetting that the earth is    
but a fly-speck compared with the other 
worlds in space4 ,he thinks  that       
,christ was born a long time ago1 and   

that time began with our own  knowledge 
of history--when1 as a matter of fact1  
he has no reason for  disbelieving that 
man lived and died hundreds of thousands
 of years  ago1 and that countless      
religions have come and gone in the eons
 of the  past4 ,he does not stop to     
reason that1 in number1 he is as a drop 
in  the ocean compared with other       
beating hearts on earth4    ,to me1     
every heart that beats is a spark from  
the breath of ,god4 ,i  believe that the
 warm and beating heart in the breast of
 a singing  robin is as precious to the 
,creator of things as the heart of a man
  counting money4 ,i believe that a     
vital spark exists in every blade of    
grass and in every leaf of the trees4   
,it is the great law of existence  that 
life must destroy in order to live1 and 
when destruction is  inevitable and     
necessary1 it ceases to be a            
misdemeanor4 ,but to let  live1 when it 
is not necessary to destroy1 is a       
beautiful thing to  consider4    ,before

 men find a satisfying faith and peace1 
they must come to see  their own        
littleness4 ,they must discover that    
they are not alone in  a partnership    
with ,god1 but that all manifestation of
 life1 whether in  tree or flower or    
flesh and blood1 is a spark loaned for a
 space by  that ,supreme ,power toward  
which we all1 in our individual ways1   
are  groping4 ,there is one teacher very
 close to us1 as close to the poor  as  
to the rich1 to show us this littleness 
and make us understand4  ,that teacher  
is nature--and1 in my understanding of  
things1 all nature  is rest and peace4  
,i believe that nature is the ,great    
,doctor1 and1 if  given the chance1 can 
cure more ills and fill more empty souls
 than all  the physicians and preachers 
of the earth4 ,i have had people say to 
me  that my creed is a beautiful one for
 a person as fortunately situated  as   
myself1 but that it is impossible for   
the great multitudes to go out  and find
 nature as ,i have found it4 ,to these  

people1 ,i say that one  need not make a
 two-thousand-mile trip along the       
,arctic coast and live  with the ,eskimo
 to find nature4 ,after all1 it is our  
nerves that kill  us in the long run1   
our over-restless minds1 our worrying1  
questing  brains4 ,and nature whispers  
its great peace to these things even in 
the rustling leaves of a corn field--if 
one will only get acquainted  with that 
nature4 ,and my desire--my ambition--the
 great goal ,i wish to  achieve in my   
writings is to take my readers with me  
into the heart of  this nature4 ,i love 
it1 and ,i feel that they must love     
it--if ,i can  only get the two         
acquainted4    8,fine line of talk for a
 man whose home is filled from cellar to
 garret  with mounted heads and furs10  
,i hear some of my good friends say4    
,quite true1 too4 ,it is hard for one to
 confess oneself a murderer1 and  it is 
still harder to explain one's           
regeneration4 ,yet1 to be genuine1 ,i   
must at least make the confession1      

though it is less the fact of murder    
than the fact of regeneration that ,i   
have the inclination to emphasize1  now 
that ,i have the opportunity4 ,there was
 a time when ,i took pride  in the      
wideness and diversity of my killings4  
,i was a destroyer of  life4 ,now ,i am 
only glad that these killings ultimately
 brought me to a  discovery which is the
 finest thing ,i have to contemplate    
through the  rest of my existence4      
,in my home are twenty-seven guns1 and  
all of them have been used4  ,many of   
the stocks are scarred with tiny notches
 whereby ,i kept track  of my 8kills40  
,with them1 ,i have left red trails to  
,hudson's ,bay1 to  the ,barren ,lands1 
to the country of the ,athabasca and the
 ,great ,bear1  to the ,arctic ,ocean1  
to the ,yukon and ,alaska1 and          
throughout ,british  ,columbia4 ,this is
 not intended as a pan of triumph4 ,it  
is a fact which  ,i wish had never      
existed4 ,and yet it may be that my love
 of nature and  the wild things1 at the 

last1 is greater because of those       
reckless  years of killing4 ,i am       
inclined to believe so4 ,in my          
pantheistic heart1  the mounted heads in
 my home are no longer crowned with the 
grandeur  of trophies1 but rather with  
the nobility of martyrs4 ,i love them4  
,i  commune with them4 ,i am no longer  
their enemy1 and ,i warm myself with    
the belief that they know ,i am fighting
 for them now4    ,in this religion of  
the open1 ,i have come to understand and
 gather  peace from the whispering      
voices and even the silence of all      
,god-loving  things4 ,i have learned to 
love trees1 and there are times when ,i 
put  my hands on them because ,i love   
them1 and rest my head against them     
because they are comrades and their     
comradeship and their might give  me    
courage4 ,there is a gnarled old cripple
 of an oak in the yard of  my ,michigan 
home1 a broken and twisted dwarf which  
many people have  told me to destroy4   
,but that tree and ,i have 8talked over0

 many things  together2 it has pointed  
out to me how to stand up under         
adversity1  has shown me how to put up a
 man's fight4 ,for1 eaten to the heart1 
a  deformity among its kind1 each spring
 and summer saw it making its  valiant  
struggle to 8do its best40 ,it was then 
,i became its friend1  gave it a helping
 hand1 stopped its decay and death1 and 
each season  now the old oak is         
stronger1 and often ,i go out and sit   
with my back  against it1 and ,i hear   
and understand its voice1 and ,i know   
that it is  a great friend that will    
never do me wrong4    ,it is thus that  
this religion of mine finds its strength
 from the  sources of great and unknown 
power4 ,but before it comes in all its  
peace and joy1 man must bring down his  
head from out of the clouds of  egoism1 
and say1 8,the oak is as great as       
,i--perhaps greater40    ,not long ago1 
it seemed to me that my world had gone  
dark and that it  would never grow      
completely light again4 ,in perhaps the 

darkest hour1  ,i flung myself down upon
 the ground close to the bank of a      
stream4 ,and  then1 close over my       
head--so close ,i could have tossed a   
pebble to  it--a warbler near burst its 
little throat in song4 ,and the miracle 
of  it was that it was a dark and       
sunless day4 ,but the warbler sang1 and 
then he chirped in the boughs above2 and
 when ,i looked at the ground  beside me
 again1 ,i saw there1 peeping up at me  
out of the grass1 a  single violet4 ,and
 the bird and the violet gave me more   
courage and  cleared my world for me    
more than all the human friends who had 
told me  they were sorry4 ,the violet   
said1 8,i am still here2 you will never 
lose  me10 and the little warbler said1 
8,i will always sing--through all the   
years you live40 ,and stronger than ever
 came the faith in me that these  things
 were no more an accident of creation   
than man himself4    ,once ,i saw this  
,great ,doctor of mine a burning1       
vibrant force in a  room of a crowded   

tenement1 from the roof of which one    
could not see  a blade of grass or a    
tree4 ,in fact1 that force filled three 
rooms1 in  which lived a man and woman  
and five children4 ,i spent an hour in  
those  rooms on a ,sunday afternoon1 and
 the experience of that hour in a hot   
and crowded tenement was a mightier     
sermon than was ever preached to  me in 
the heart of a forest4 ,at every window 
was a box in which green  stuff was     
growing4 ,there were flowers in pots4 ,a
 pair of canary-birds  looked down upon 
the smoky roofs of a great city and     
sang4 ,what  interested me most was two 
contrivances the man had made to force  
oats  into swift germination and growth4
 ,in a week1 he told me1 the green      
sprout of an oat would be two inches    
long4 ,then ,i saw why they were  grown4
 ,several times while ,i was there would
 a dove come to a window  and wait for a
 bit of the green4 ,i could see they    
were different doves4  ,they told me at 
least a dozen were accustomed to come in

 that way4 ,they  were the children's   
pets4 ,a little baby in arms cooed at   
them and waved  his arms in delight4 ,i 
have seen many poor tenement families1  
but that1  ,i think1 was the only happy 
one4 ,the singing of the birds1 the     
coming  of the doves1 the growing of    
green things in their room were their   
inspiration1 their hope1 the promise of 
dreams that would some day  come true4  
,nature had become their religion1 and  
yet they did not know  it as such4 ,it  
was calling them out into the great open
 spaces--and  they were living in       
anticipation of that day when they would
 answer the  call4    ,because ,i have  
spent much of my time in adventuring in 
distant  wildernesses1 and exploring    
where other men have not gone1 it has   
been  accepted by many that my love for 
nature means a love for the distant     
and1 for most people1 the inaccessible  
wilds4 ,it is true that in the  vast and
 silent places one comes nearer1        
perhaps1 to the deeper truths  of life4 

,of the wild and its miracles ,i love to
 write1 and when ,i come  to that part  
of my story1 ,i shall possibly be       
happiest4 ,but ,i would be  unfair to   
myself1 and the religion of nature      
itself1 if the great truth  were not    
first emphasized that its treasures are 
to be possessed by  mankind wherever one
 may turn--even in a prison cell4 ,i was
 personally  in touch with one          
remarkable instance of this in the      
,michigan ,state  ,penitentiary1 at     
,jackson1 where a canary-bird and a red 
geranium saved  a man from madness and  
eventually gained him a pardon1 sending 
him out  into the world a living being  
with a new and better religion than he  
had ever dreamed of before4    ,but the 
open skies and the free air were        
intended from the beginning of  things  
as the greatest gifts to man1 and it is 
there1 if one is sick in  body or soul1 
that one should seek4 ,whether it is a  
mile or a thousand  miles from a city   
makes little difference4 ,for nature is 

the universal  law4 ,it is everywhere4  
,it is neither mystery nor mysterious4  
,its pages  are open2 its life is       
vibrant with the desire to be           
understood4 ,the  one miracle is for man
 to bring himself down out of the clouds
 of his  egoism and replace his passion 
for destruction with the desire to      
understand4           99       99       
99       99       99    ,i have in mind 
a case in point4    ,i had a very dear  
friend1 a newspaper man1 whose wife had 
died4 ,i don't  know that ,i ever saw a 
man more utterly broken up1 for his love
 for  her was more than love4 ,it was   
worship4 ,he grew faded and thin1 and a 
gray patch over his temple turned white4
 ,the mightiest efforts of his  friends 
could do nothing4 ,he wanted to be      
alone1 alone in his home1  where he     
could grieve himself to death by inches4
 ,i knew that his case  was harder      
because he was merely tolerant of       
religion4 ,one day1 the  idea came to me
 that resulted in his spiritual and     

physical salvation4  ,i took him in my  
auto1 and we went out into the country  
four or five  miles1 opened a gate1     
drove down a long lane1 and stopped at  
the edge  of a forty-acre wood4         
8,fred1 ,i am going to show you a       
wonderful city10 ,i said4 8,come with   
me--quietly40    ,we climbed over the   
fence1 and ,i led him to the heart of   
the wood1 and  there we sat down1 with  
our backs to a log4    8,now1 just to   
humor me1 be very still10 ,i said4      
8,don't move1 don't  speak--just        
listen40    ,it was three o'clock in the
 afternoon1 that wonderful time of a    
summer  day when nature seems to rouse  
herself from midday slumber to fill the 
world with her rustling life4 ,the sun  
fell slantwise through the wood1  and   
here and there1 under the roofs of the  
trees1 we could see golden  pools and   
streams of it on the cool earth4        
8,this is one of the most wonderful     
cities in the world10 ,i whispered1     
8and there are hundreds and thousands of

 such cities1 some of them  within the  
reach of all40    ,the musical ripple of
 a creek came to our ears4 ,and then1   
slowly  at first1 there came upon my    
friend the wonder of it all4 ,he        
understood--at last4 ,about us1 through 
all that forty acres of wood1  the air  
seemed to whisper forth a strange and   
wonderful life4 ,over our  heads1 we    
heard a grating sound4 ,it was a        
squirrel gnawing through the  shell of a
 last autumn's nut4 ,on an old stub1 a  
woodpecker hammered4  ,close about us   
were the 8cheep1 cheep1 cheep10 and     
8twit1 twit1 twit10  of little brown    
brushbirds4 ,a warbler burst suddenly   
into a glorious  snatch of song4 ,a     
quarter of a mile away1 a crow cawed1   
and between us  and the crow we heard a 
fox-squirrel barking1 and1 a little     
later1 saw  it1 with its mate1          
scrambling in play up and down the      
trees4 ,my friend  caught my arm and    
pointed4 ,he was becoming interested1   
and what he saw  was a fat young        

woodchuck passing near us on a foraging 
expedition to a  neighboring clover     
field4    ,for an hour we did not move1 
and through all that city was the drone 
and voice of life1 and that life was a  
soft and wonderful song1  soothing one  
almost to sleep4 ,and when1 at last1 my 
friend whispered  again1 8,it sounds as 
though everything is talking10 ,i knew  
that the  spirit of the thing had got   
into him4 ,then ,i drew his attention to
 a  colony of big black ants whose      
fortress was in the log against which we
  were resting4 ,they were working4 ,two
 of them were trying to drag a dead     
caterpillar over my friend's knee4 ,when
 we rose to go1 ,i led him past  a      
little swale in which a score of        
blackbirds had bred their young4 ,on  a 
slender willow1 a bobolink was singing4 
,a land-turtle lumbered back  into the  
water1 and the bright eyes of           
green-headed frogs stared at  us from   
patches of scum4 ,under a bush1 a score 
of toads were teaching  their tiny      

youngsters to swim4 ,when my friend saw 
the little fellows  clinging to their   
mothers' backs1 he laughed--the first   
time in many  months4    ,when we went  
back to the car1 ,i said3    8,you have 
seen just one ten-thousandth of what    
nature holds for you and  every other   
man and woman4 ,you haven't believed in 
,god very strongly4  ,but you've got to 
now4 ,that's ,god back there in the     
wood40    ,that was four years ago4     
,to-day1 that man not only lives in the 
heart  of nature but1 from a special    
assignment man1 he has risen to the     
managing editorship of a big            
metropolitan daily4 ,he has only his    
summer  vacation in which to get out    
into the big woods1 but he has made room
  for nature all about him4 ,from early 
spring until late autumn1 his  front and
 back yard fairly burst with life4 ,and 
it is not1 like most  yards1 merely for 
show and passing pleasure to the eyes4  
,he has brought  himself down out of the
 clouds of man's egoism1 and is learning

 and  taking strength from nature--which
 he now worships as the great 8,i am40  
,he has developed a hobby for           
8interbreeding plants10 as he calls it1 
and especially gladioli4 ,each morning  
in spring and summer and autumn1  he    
goes out into his garden1 and1 from the 
thousand living things  there1 he       
receives strength for his nerve-racking 
duties of the day2  and at night1 after 
his task is done1 he returns to his     
garden to seek  that peace which is the 
great and vibrant force of the life that
 is  there4 ,during the months of       
winter1 he has his little conservatory4 
,and  this man--for more than thirty    
years--hardly knew whether an oak grew  
from an acorn or a seed6    ,yet has he 
one great regret4 ,and more than once he
 has said to me1 with  that grief in his
 voice which will never quite die out3  
8,if we had only  found these things    
before1 she would be with me now4 ,i am 
convinced of  it4 ,it was this strength 
she needed to keep her from fading      

away--to  build her up into joyous life 
again4 ,sometimes ,i wonder why the     
,great  ,power that is above did not let
 her live to go into the wood with us   
that day40           99       99        
99       99       99    ,hours have     
passed since ,i first sat down to write 
these thoughts that  were in my mind4   
,the storm has passed1 and1 following   
it1 there has  come a marvelous silence4
 ,both my door and window are open1 and 
there  is rare sweetness in the breath  
of the rain-washed air4 ,i can hear  the
 near-by trees dripping4 ,the creek runs
 with a louder ripple4 ,the  moon is    
shimmering through the fleecy clouds    
that are racing south and  east--toward 
my 8civilized0 home1 fifteen hundred    
miles away4 ,over all  this world of    
mine there is1 just now1 a vast and     
voiceless quiet4 ,and  if ,i were       
superstitious1 or filled with the       
imagination of some of the  prophets of 
old1 ,i am sure ,i would hear a ,voice  
speaking out of that  mighty solitude1  

and it would say3    8,o you mortal1    
blind--blind as the rocks which make up 
the mountains6    8,blind as the trees  
which you think have neither ears nor   
eyes6    8,made to see1 yet unseeing2   
making mystery out of that which was    
born  with you2 seeking--yet seeking    
afar for that which lies close at hand6 
8,you want peace4 ,you go in quest of a 
,breast mightier than all life to  rest 
thy tired head upon4 ,and thy quest is  
like the drifting of a ship  without a  
rudder at sea4 ,for you think that the  
world is young because  thou livest in  
it now--and it is old1 so old that      
thousands and tens  of thousands of     
peoples lived and died before ,christ   
was born4 ,you  think that civilization 
has come to pass1 and #8civilization'   
has died a  thousand times under the    
dust of the ages4 ,you believe you are  
treading  the only path to ,god--yet    
have a million billion people died      
before  you1 unknowing the religions    
which you now know4    8,o you mortals  

of to-day1 you are small and            
near-sighted1 and hard of  hearing--even
 more than they who lived a million     
years before you1 when  the world was an
 hour or two younger than now6    8,what
 are you8 ,proud of thy purse1 vain of  
thy power1 conceited in  thy            
self-glorification--yet you seek a      
simple thing and cannot find  it4 ,you  
cannot find rest4 ,you cannot find      
faith4 ,you cannot find  understanding4 
,you cannot find that ,breast mightier  
than all life  upon which to rest thy   
head when the end comes and when you go 
to join  those trillions who have gone  
before you4    8,and1 in your despair1  
you cry out that you know not which way 
to turn1  that you seek in darkness1    
that the world is a wilderness of       
schisms  and religions1 and that you    
cannot tell which is the right and which
  is the wrong4 ,for you know that      
worlds have lived and died through the  
eons of centuries before ,christianity  
was born4 ,and you are oppressed  by    

doubt even as you grope6    8,yet you   
know deep in thy soul that the heavens  
were not an accident4  ,you know that   
hundreds and thousands of worlds greater
 than thine own  have traveled their    
paths in space for eternities4 ,you know
 that the  sun was set in the skies so  
long ago that all the people of the     
earth  could not count the years of its 
life4 ,and you know that a ,great ,hand 
placed it there4 ,and that ,hand1 you   
say1 was ,god4    8,yet you seek--and   
you seek--and you seek--and doubt       
everlastingly  clouds thine eyes2 and   
when darkness comes and you stand at the
 edge of  the ,great ,beyond1 you look  
back1 and--lo6--the path you have       
traveled  seems very short1 and it is   
cluttered with brambles and thorns and  
the  wreckage of shattered hopes and    
wasted years4    8,and then you see the 
,light6    8,and1 as thy spirit departs1
 the mystery unveils--the answer comes4 
8,for that which you sought1 you looked 
too far4 ,close under thy feet  and     

close over thy head might you have found
 it60           99       99       99    
99       99    ,the ,second ,trail ,i   
,,become ,a ,,killer           99       
99       99       99       99           
,the ,second ,trail ,i ,,become ,a      
,,killer      ,this morning is a glory  
of sunshine and peace after last night's
 rain4  ,it seems inconceivable that the
 blue sky above the forest was filled  a
 few hours ago with the crash of thunder
 and the blaze of lightning4  ,i was up 
at dawn1 wakened by a pair of red       
squirrels playing upon the  roof of my  
cabin4 ,together we watched the sun     
rise1 and after that they  chattered    
about my open door while ,i prepared my 
breakfast4 ,we are  becoming great      
friends4 ,one of them ,i have given the 
name of ,nuts1 and  for no reason in the
 world unless it is because there are no
 nuts up  here2 and the other1 the      
sleek1 beautiful little female1 ,i call 
,spoony  because she looks at me so     
slyly1 with her pretty head perked on   

one  side1 as if flirting with me4      
,it is only eight o'clock1 yet we have  
been up nearly four hours4 ,at  the edge
 of the creek1 less than a stone's throw
 from the cabin1 ,i  have built me a    
narrow table of smooth-hewn saplings    
between two old  spruce trees1 and this 
is my open-air studio when the weather  
is fine4  ,word of it has gone abroad1  
though ,i am many hundreds of miles from
  civilization4 ,many kinds of wild     
things have come to get acquainted  with
 me1 fascinated chiefly1 ,i think1 by   
the marvelous new language  of my       
clicking typewriter4 ,the welcome and   
friendship of these little              
wilderness-hearts are growing nearer and
 more apparent to me every day2  and    
with each day the ,great ,truth speaks  
to me even more clearly than  the day   
before--that each of these beating      
hearts1 like my own1 is a  part of that 
nature which ,i worship and is as       
vitally a spark of its  life as the     
heart which is beating inside my own    

flannel shirt4    ,these friends of     
mine1 gathering about me more intimately
 and in  greater number with each       
passing day1 are individuals to me      
because  ,i have come to understand them
 and know their language4 ,there is the 
,artful ,dodger1 for instance--,i       
sometimes call him ,bill ,sykes or      
,captain  ,kidd--screaming close over my
 head this very moment4 ,in very        
intimate  moments ,i call him ,arty1 or 
,kid1 or ,bill4 ,he is a big blue jay4  
,in  spite of all that has been said and
 written against him1 ,i have a  very   
brotherly affection for ,bill4 ,he is a 
man's man1 among birds1  notwithstanding
 that he occasionally breakfasts on the 
eggs of other  birds1 and kills more    
than is good for his reputation4 ,also1 
he is the  greatest liar and the biggest
 fraud and the most brazen-faced cheat  
in  the bird kingdom4 ,but ,i know ,bill
 intimately now1 where ,i used to kill  
him as a pest1 and ,i love him for all  
his sins4    ,he is a pirate who never  

loses his sense of humor4 ,he is always 
raising a disturbance just for the      
excitement of it1 and when he has  drawn
 a crowd1 so to speak1 he will slip     
slyly away to some nearby  vantage-point
 and laugh and chuckle over the rumpus  
he has raised4  ,right now1 he is       
screaming himself hoarse forty feet     
above my head4  ,two others have joined 
him1 and they are making such a bedlam  
of sound  that ,nuts and ,spoony have   
ceased their chattering4 ,there6--,i    
have fired  a stick at them1 and they   
are gone4 ,they have had their joke1 and
 are  quite satisfied--for the present4 
,i can hear the musical rippling of the 
creek again1 now that ,bill and  his    
blustering pals are gone1 and my        
typewriter is like a tiny machine  gun  
sending its clicking notes out into the 
still forest4 ,a pair of  moose-birds1  
almost as big as the jays1 are hopping  
about1 so near  that1 at times1 they are
 perched on the end of my sapling table4
  ,they are the tamest birds in the     

wilderness1 and within another day  or  
so will be eating out of my hand4       
,unlike the jays1 they make no          
disturbance4 ,they are soft and quiet1  
never making a sound1 and their  big1   
beautiful eyes fairly pop with their    
intense interest in me4 ,i  like their  
company1 because there is a philosophy  
about them4 ,they  never tire of looking
 at me1 and studying me1 and at times ,i
 have the  very pleasant fancy that they
 are bursting with a desire to speak4   
,they  are very gentle1 and never fight 
or scold or commit any sins that ,i     
know of2 and just now1 as the two look  
at me with their big soft eyes1  ,i find
 myself wondering which of us is of most
 account in the final  analysis of      
things4    ,ten or fifteen rods above   
me1 the creek widens and forms a wide   
pool overhung with trees1 so that1 in   
the hottest weather1 it must  be a      
delightfully refreshing place4 ,i can   
see it plainly from where  ,i am        
sitting1 for the creek twists a little1 

so that it is running  directly toward  
me when ,i look in that direction4 ,many
 wild things  come to that pool4 ,this  
morning1 ,i found a bear-track there1   
and the  fresh hoof-prints of a doe and 
fawn4 ,yesterday1 a pair of traveling   
otters discovered it1 but when ,i tried 
them out with the voice of my           
typewriter1 they turned back4 ,i am     
confident they will return1 and that  we
 shall get acquainted4    ,at the       
present moment1 in looking toward the   
pool1 ,i am struck by what  at first    
thought ,i might consider a discordant  
note in this wonderland  of quiet and   
peace that is about me4 ,at the edge of 
the pool1 rigid  and watchful1 a hawk is
 poised on a dead limb projecting from a
  lightning-struck stub4 ,he is hungry  
and eager to kill4 ,i have seen him     
launch himself twice after a victim1 but
 each time without success4  ,finally1  
he will succeed4 ,he will kill a living 
thing that he himself  may continue to  
live4 ,yet ,i have no inclination to    

shoot him4 ,for to  live1 and to cherish
 that spark of life that is in him1 is  
as much his  right as it is mine4 ,he is
 not1 like man1 a killer for the love of
  killing4 ,he wants his breakfast4     
,and in fairness to him ,i think of two 
tender young spruce-partridges  which ,i
 shot late last evening1 and which ,i   
shall roast for my dinner1  along with a
 potato and a flavor of bacon4 ,my      
religion does not demand  vegetarianism 
any more than it does flesh2 for that1  
too1 is life4  ,for the trees whispering
 above me now are as alive to me as the 
moose-birds perched at the end of my    
table1 yet when necessity comes  ,i cut 
them down with an ax1 and make a cabin  
or cook my food with  them4 ,all nature 
cries out that life must exist upon     
life1 that one  tree must grow upon the 
mold of another1 that for each green    
blade of  grass another blade must die4 
,it is not against a wise and necessary 
destruction that the ,god of all nature 
cries out4 ,the crime--the crime        

greater than all other crimes--is       
destruction without cause4           99 
99       99       99       99    ,that  
is what ,i must come to now1 even in    
this glory of peace that is  whispering 
about me--,i must face the task of      
confessing my own sins as  a killer1 as 
a destroyer of life for the love and    
thrill of killing4 ,i  was born1 like   
all the children of men1 a monumental   
egoist4 ,my parents  were egoists4 ,my  
forefathers for ten thousand generations
 were egoists  before me1 and ,i was the
 last product of their egoism--one of   
the  billion and a half people who are  
living to-day in the blindness of a     
self-conceit that has filled their      
worlds with schisms and religions as    
false and as unstable as the treacherous
 sands of human 8almightiness0  upon    
which they have been built4    ,from the
 beginning1 ,i did not need argument or 
education to tell me  that ,i was the   
greatest of all created things--that my 
particular  brand of life1 of all life  

on the earth1 was the only life that    
,god  had intended to be inviolate4     
,that fact was pounded home to me in the
  public schools2 it was preached to me 
in the churches4 ,i was part and  parcel
 of the great 8,i ,am40 ,for me1 all the
 universe had been built4  ,for me1 the 
,great ,hereafter was solely created4   
,all other life was  merely incidental1 
and created especially for my benefit4  
,it was mine  to do with as ,i pleased4 
,in a mild sort of way1 the school and  
the  church told me to have a little    
charity1 and not to 8hurt the poor      
little birdies40    ,but church and     
school did not tell me1 and has never   
told its pupils1  that all other life on
 the earth was as precious as my own1   
and had  an equal right to fight for its
 existence4 ,it is true ,i was told that
  never a sparrow falls that ,god does  
not see it1 but it is also true  that1  
for six years1 my state urged its       
children to kill sparrows for  a bounty 
of two cents a head4 ,i found no course 

in school or college  that attempted to 
teach me that the spark of life         
animating my own  body was no different 
from the sparks which animated all other
 living  things4 ,both religion and     
school instilled into me that ,i was    
next in  place to ,god4 ,all other life1
 from the life of trees and flowers to  
that of beasts and birds1 was put on    
earth for my special benefit4 ,no  other
 life had a right to exist unless the   
human egoist saw fit to let  it live4   
,and all this simply because human life 
happened to be the most  powerful life1 
and cleverest in the art and science of 
destroying other  life4    ,i wonder    
what would happen if for ten generations
 the churches and  schools would teach  
their little children and their         
grown-ups that  there is a heaven for   
flowers and trees and birds and         
butterflies  just as surely as there is 
a heaven for man6 ,what would happen if 
the  teaching of the ,great ,truth of   
nature began in the kindergarten1 and   

went on through the lives of men and    
women1 growing stronger in the  race as 
generation added itself to generation8  
,it is something to think  about in     
these days when1 in our madness for a   
faith1 we are reviving  ghosts and      
phantom voices and are frightening our  
children again with  the diseased and   
weird belief that the spirits of the    
dead can come  back to us4 ,we want     
something that is clean and healthy and 
inspiring1  something that is beautiful 
to contemplate1 and which is not an     
overwhelming insult to that ,great      
,power of the universe of which we are  
so small a part--and in the kindergarten
 we could plant the seed of  that thing1
 so that1 through the school and the    
church and all life1 it  would continue 
to grow stronger with each generation1  
until1 at last1  man would shake off    
that deadliest of all his enemies1 his  
own egoism  and self-conceit4 ,then1 and
 not until then1 will he find           
contentment  and peace and happiness in 

the brotherhood of all other life that  
is  about him4    ,but ,i seem to be    
evading the issue--my own confession as 
a monumental  egoist and a killer4 ,i   
have said that my parents were egoists1 
like  all their forefathers before them4
 ,yet the world never held a better     
mother than mine4 ,i do not except any  
who may sit in heaven at the  present   
time4 ,and my father1 as a man1 was far 
better than his son will  ever be4 ,he  
was a gentleman of the old school1      
living1 as he died1 an  example of      
courage and fearlessness and honor to   
all who knew him4  ,yet did these two   
splendid people1 like all other parents1
 foster and  cultivate my egoism from   
the beginning4 ,they did it             
unconsciously1  blindly1 as hundreds of 
millions of other parents are doing     
to-day4    ,my father loved hunting and 
fishing1 and at eight years of age ,i   
possessed my own gun4 ,i remember with  
what pride he taught me to shoot  and to
 stalk my first living victims2 and when

 we returned from a hunt1  if ,i had    
killed anything1 it was always to me    
that my beloved mother  gave her        
greatest attention and commendation4 ,we
 lived on an ,ohio farm  then1 and ,i   
became a sort of boy prodigy in the art 
of hunting4 ,when  ,i was nine years    
old1 a newspaper in a near-by city      
published a story  of my prowess1 and ,i
 do not think ,i was more puffed up over
 it than my  father himself4 ,by the    
time ,i was twelve1 ,i had lost all     
respect for  that life which the laws of
 our state said ,i might take4 ,i had a 
fine  collection of birds' eggs1 and    
another 8splendid0 collection of birds' 
wings4 ,my room was decorated with the  
wings4    ,i always recall with an odd  
sort of feeling that at this particular 
height of my boyish slaughter of life ,i
 8got religion10 and got it  hard4 ,at  
,joppa1 a 8four-corners0 two miles from 
our farm1 a series  of revival meetings 
was going on that winter1 and ,i cannot 
remember  anyone in all our community   

who did not get the religious fever1    
except most of the youngsters4 ,but it  
hit me hard4 ,i felt that ,i was        
actually inspired4 ,so deeply did the   
excited preachings effect my mind  that 
frequently1 when ,i was alone1 ,i felt  
that angels were with me4  ,one         
moonlight night1 in returning from a    
revival1 ,i actually saw an  angel1 and 
the beautiful thing with white wings and
 white raiment and  wonderful flowing   
hair walked halfway home with me4 ,when 
,i told that  story at school the next  
day1 and insisted that it was true1 ,i  
had five  different fights4 ,my mother  
said that it probably was true1 for she 
was  delighted that ,i had become       
religious4 ,so ,i fought1 and           
licked--and got  licked--for about a    
month because of my faith4    ,but what 
,i am coming to is this3 ,though        
practically our whole township  was     
converted1 at no time did this religion 
tell me to stop killing4 ,so  inspired  
was ,i that ,mr4 ,teachout1 the         

revivalist1 had me give a short         
8sermon0 one evening--and ,i recall     
vividly how1 in 8introducing0 me1  he   
said1 in a loud voice and with a great  
flourish of his arms1 that  ,i 8was the 
best hunter in all ,erie ,county and    
could kill more game  in a day than     
almost any grown hunter there40         
,whereupon there was a  mighty applause 
from the hundred people present1 and ,i 
was the proudest  youngster in ,ohio4   
,why8    ,because from a church rostrum 
,i was hailed as the greatest boy killer
  in that county6 ,no one of all those  
,christians told me that ,i should  stop
 killing4 ,they made a hero of me       
because ,i was already becoming  a      
master in the art of killing4 ,they     
built up my egoism to a point  where it 
became blasphemous--to a point where it 
more than offset my  mother's pleadings 
that ,i stop shooting birds for their   
wings4 ,then  came a thing which1 as ,i 
look back upon it now1 seems to me      
monstrous4  ,there was to be a big      

8hunters' supper0 to end the revival4   
,the men  chose sides1 and on a certain 
day all these men set out to kill4 ,they
  were to kill nothing 8outside the     
law40 ,but all life not protected by    
law might be sacrificed4 ,i remember    
that a rabbit counted five points1  a   
squirrel four1 a hawk six1 a blue jay   
two1 and so on4 ,the side that  lost out
 on 8points10 or1 in other words1       
destroyed the least life1  was compelled
 to furnish the supper4 ,how ,i did     
slaughter6 ,when ,i came  in to the     
8count0 that night1 my game-bag was     
filled to the brim with  dead things4   
,among other creatures ,i had killed    
seventeen blue jays6  ,any wonder that  
,captain ,kidd and his pals screamed    
over my head this  morning8    ,and yet 
good ,christian people still regard with
 horror the day when  pagan ,rome burned
 the martyrs4    ,my education in the   
art of destruction increased as my years
 grew in  number4 ,i was not alone4 ,all
 the human world was destroying1 just as

  it is destroying to-day4 ,we moved    
back to the little city of ,owosso1  in 
,michigan1 where ,i was born4 ,in ,erie 
,county1 ,ohio1 my nickname had  been   
,slippery--just why ,i don't know2 now1 
in ,michigan1 it became  ,nimrod and    
,wildcat ,jim4 ,i haunted our beautiful 
,shiawassee ,river as  ghosts are now   
haunting some of our scientific writers4
 ,i trapped and  hunted and fished more 
than ,i studied--so much more1 in fact1 
that ,i  became decidedly unpopular with
 our high-school principal1 ,mr4        
,austin1  who is now my very good       
friend4 ,at last1 ,i stood at the       
splitting of  the ways--and ,i chose my 
own course4 ,i trapped a season1 and1   
with  the money earned1 started in on a 
special course at the ,university of    
,michigan4 ,things went well4 ,i slipped
 through college with the ease of  an   
eel1 took up newspaper work in ,detroit1
 became a special writer and  a magazine
 writer and the youngest metropolitan   
newspaper editor in  ,michigan4 ,i felt 

inclined to believe that ,i was a wild  
and uproarious  success4    ,but under  
it all burned my desire to get back to  
my old job of  destruction1 and this    
desire led me into my long years of     
adventuring  into the far northern      
wildernesses4    ,as ,i sit here now1   
clicking my typewriter in the still     
heart of the  forest1 it is a wonder to 
me that some colossal spirit of         
vengeance  does not rise up out of it   
and destroy me4 ,and yet1 when ,i       
consider1 ,i  know why that vengeance   
does not come--and in the face of this  
8great  reason10 ,i see my littleness as
 ,i have never seen it before4 ,it is   
because1 very slowly1 my egoism is      
crumbling away4 ,and as it crumbles1  my
 big brother--all nature--grips my hand 
ever more closely1 and  whispers to me  
to tell others something of what ,i have
 found4 ,and that  big brother is not   
only the spirit of the heart-beating    
things about  me1 but also the spirit   
and voice of the trees1 of the living   

earth  that throbs under my feet1 of the
 flowers1 the sun1 the sky4 ,it is  all 
reaching out to me with a great show of 
friendliness1 and ,i seem  to feel that 
fear and misunderstanding have slipped  
away from between  us4 ,it is inviting  
me to accept of it all that ,i may      
require1 yet to  cherish that which ,i  
cannot use4 ,it is telling me1 as it has
 whispered  to me a thousand times      
before1 the secret of life2 that the    
life in  my own breast and all this that
 is about me are one and the same--and  
that1 in our partnership for happiness1 
we each belong to the other4  ,and there
 must be no desire for vengeance between
 us4    ,yet1 to me1 it does not seem   
like justice1 looking at it from the    
warped and narrow point of view of my   
human mind4 ,it is the human  instinct  
to demand an eye for an eye and a tooth 
for a tooth4 ,and ,i  cannot see why my 
,god of nature should give me such      
reward of peace and  friendship after   
what ,i have done4 ,it has always been  

my logic that  life is the cheapest     
thing in existence4 ,there is just so   
much earth1  so much water1 so much air 
about us2 but of life there is no end4  
,so  we go on destroying4 ,if nature    
would keep this destroyed life unto     
herself for a few generations1 instead  
of giving it back to us in her          
unvengeful way1 the earth would soon    
become a desert4 ,then we would  learn  
our lesson4    ,i am thinking1 as ,i    
write this1 of a beautiful little forest
 in a  wonderful valley in the heart of 
the ,british ,columbia mountains4 ,it   
was a glorious thing to look down upon  
that day when ,i destroyed it4  ,i call 
it a forest1 though there was not more  
than an acre of it1 or  two at the most4
 ,and the valley was really a 8pocket0  
among the mighty  peaks of the ,firepan 
,range4 ,it was of balsams and cedars1  
rich green1  and densely thick--a       
marvelous patch of living tapestry1     
vibrant with  the glow and pulse of life
 in the sunset of that day4 ,into its   

shelter  we had driven a wounded grizzly
 which had refused to turn and fight4   
,and so thick and protecting was the    
heart of it that we could not get  the  
grizzly out4 ,night was not far away1   
and in its darkness we knew  our game   
would escape us4 ,and the thought came  
to us to burn that  little paradise of  
green4 ,there was no danger of a        
spreading fire4 ,the  mountain walls of 
the 8pocket0 would prevent that4 ,and it
 was ,i who  struck the match6    ,in   
twenty minutes1 the little forest was a 
sea of writhing1 leaping  flame4 ,it    
cried out and moaned in the agony of    
conflagration4 ,the bear  fled from its 
torture and its ruin1 and we killed him4
 ,that night1 the  moon shone down on a 
black and smoldering mass of ruin where 
a little  while before had been the     
paradise4    ,in our camp1 we laughed   
and exulted4 ,the egoism of man made us 
feel our  false triumph4 ,what it had   
taken a thousand years to place in that 
cup of the mountains we had destroyed in

 half an hour--yet we felt no  regret4  
,we had destroyed a thousand times more 
life than filled our own  pitiable      
bodies1 yet did the false ethics of our 
breed assure us that  we had done no    
wrong--simply because the life we had   
destroyed had not  possessed a form and 
tongue like our own4    8,this man must 
be losing his reason10 ,i hear some of  
my readers say4 ,is  it that1 or is a   
bit of reason just returning to me1     
after a million  years of sleep8 ,if it 
is madness1 it is of a kind that would  
comfort  the world could all be mad as  
,i am mad4 ,life is ,life4 ,it is a     
spark  of the same ,supreme ,power1     
whether in a tree1 a flower1 or a thing 
of  flesh and blood4 ,to me1 as ,i view 
it now1 the wanton destruction of  that 
little paradise was as tragic as the    
destruction of life carried  about on   
two legs or four4 ,i feel that the crime
 of its destruction was  as great as    
that of another day which ,i recall most
 vividly in these  moments4    ,i was in

 another wonderland of the northern     
mountains1 and my companion  was a      
grizzled old hunter who had learned the 
art of killing through  a lifetime of   
experience4 ,with our pack-outfit of    
seven horses1 we  were hitting for the  
,yukon over a trail never traveled by   
white man  before4 ,so glorious was the 
valley we were in on this day of which  
,i  write that at noon we struck our    
camp4 ,so awesome was the vastness  and 
beauty of it that my soul was held      
spellbound with the magic of  it4 ,on   
all sides of us rose the mighty         
mountains1 with snow-crowned  peaks     
rising here and there out of the        
towering ranges4 ,the murmur of         
rippling water filled the soft air with 
soothing song2 green meadows1  sweet    
with the perfume of wild hyacinths1     
violets1 and a hundred  other flowers1  
carpeted the rich earth about us2 on the
 sun-warmed  rocks1 whistlers lay in fat
 contentment1 calling to one another    
like  small boys whistling between their

 teeth2 the slopes were dotted with     
ptarmigan2 a pair of eagles soared high 
above us1 and from the patches  and     
fingers of timber came the cry and song 
of birds4 ,with my back  propped against
 a pile of saddles and panniers ,i      
carefully scanned the  slides and slopes
 through my hunting-glasses4 ,high up on
 the crag of  a mountain-shoulder1 ,i   
picked up a nanny-goat feeding with her 
kid4  ,still farther away1 on a green   
8slide0 at least two miles from camp1 ,i
  discovered five mountain-sheep lying  
down4 ,and after that1 swinging  my     
glasses slowly1 ,i came to something    
which sent a thrill through  my blood4  
,it was a mile away1 a great1           
slow-moving hulk that ,i might  have    
mistaken for a rock had my eyes not been
 trained to the ways and  movement of   
game4 ,it was a grizzly4    ,alone ,i   
went after him1 armed with man's        
deadliest weapon of  extinction1 a 4#dje
 ,winchester4 ,inside of half an hour ,i
 was well in the  teeth of the breeze   

coming up the valley1 and almost within 
gunshot of  my victim4 ,i came to a     
coulee and crept up that1 and when ,i   
reached the  table-land meadow where it 
began1 a thousand feet above the valley1
 ,i  found myself within a hundred yards
 of the grizzly4    ,he was digging like
 a dog for a gopher4 ,and1 then1        
suddenly1 my heart  gave a thump that   
almost choked me4 ,in a twist of the    
mountain-bench1  not more than seventy  
or eighty yards above me1 were two more 
grizzlies4 ,i hesitated1 and looked back
 down the coulee1 for a moment  doubtful
 whether to retreat or declare war4     
,then ,i decided4 ,in my hands  was a   
killer of the deadliest and surest kind4
 ,i was an expert shot and  my nerves   
were steady4 ,i began4 ,i think ,i fired
 five shots in perhaps  thirty seconds1 
and the three big grizzlies died almost 
in their  tracks4 ,a conqueror returning
 in his triumph to old ,rome could not  
have been more elated than ,i4 ,i       
remember that ,i leaped and danced and  

shrieked out at the top of my voice in  
the direction of camp4 ,i was mad  with 
joy4 ,three thousand pounds of flesh and
 blood lay hot and lifeless  under my   
eyes1 and ,i1 the human near-god1 with  
my own two insignificant  hands and a   
mechanical thing1 had taken the life    
from it6    ,i sat down on one of the   
huge carcasses that still breathed under
 me4  ,i wiped my face1 and my blood was
 running a race that heated me as if    
with fire4 ,and the thought came to me3 
8,oh1 if the world could only see  me   
now--here in my glorious triumph--with  
these great beasts about me60  ,for it  
was a mighty triumph for man1 the       
egoist4 ,in thirty seconds ,i  had      
destroyed a possible one hundred years  
of throbbing1 heart-beating  life1 a    
hundred years of winter1 a hundred years
 of summer1 a hundred  mating-seasons1  
and the thousand other lives that now   
would never be  born6 ,i stood up1 and  
shrieked again toward the camp1 and far 
above me  out of the blue of the sky ,i 

heard an answering cry from one of the  
eagles4444    ,yes1 as ,i sit here1     
looking back over the days that are     
gone1 ,i wonder  that the spirit of     
vengeance does not rise up out of the   
forest and  destroy me1 even as ,i have 
destroyed4 ,it would be justice1        
according to  that justice which man the
 egoist metes out4 ,and yet1 even as ,i 
wonder1  the answer comes to me very    
clearly4 ,i am no different than        
hundreds of  millions of others4 ,i have
 destroyed in my own way1 while others  
have  destroyed in theirs4 ,and nature1 
the most blessed of all things1 is not  
vengeful4 ,god forgives4 ,and nature is 
,god4 ,it is ,god that lives in the     
rose1 in the violet1 in the tree1 just  
as he lives in the heart of man4  ,it is
 ,god that breathes in the grass which  
makes the earth sweet to  tread upon1   
and it is ,god that lives in the song of
 birds4 ,his 8life0  is                 
all-encompassing1 the vital spark of all
 existent things4 ,instead of  sending  

ghosts back to earth to prove his power1
 he gives us all these  things1 and     
lives and breathes in them1 that we may 
have him with us in  physical things all
 the days of our lives if we will only  
rise out of  our egoism--and understand4
    ,and now ,i have come again to the  
parting of a way4 ,i have bared the     
black side of my ledger1 and it has not 
been pleasant work for  me4 ,to-morrow  
begins the joyous part of my task--the  
beginning of  that story which will tell
 how at last my eyes were opened1 how   
understanding came to me1 and with that 
understanding a new faith which  will   
live with me through all the rest of the
 years of my life4           99       99
       99       99       99    ,the     
,third ,trail ,,my ,,brotherhood        
99       99       99       99       99  
,the ,third ,trail ,,my ,,brotherhood   
,to-day is ,sunday1 and ,i have just    
returned from a week's hike up the      
mysterious little creek that runs past  
my cabin4 ,it seems good to be  home    

again1 and ,nuts and ,spoony and ,wild  
,bill1 the blue jay1 have given  me a   
royal welcome1 and ,i am almost         
convinced my pop-eyed moose-bird        
friends are trying to tell me who was   
the thief in my cabin while ,i  was     
gone4 ,on that 8to-morrow0 when ,i had  
promised myself another day  of writing1
 the ,wanderlust came to me1 and ,i     
packed up a kit and a  week's supply of 
grub and started out to explore my      
creek4 ,it is a  very individual sort of
 creek--it has character1 even1 if it   
hasn't a  name4 ,it comes out of deep1  
dark1 and unexplored masses of forest to
  the north1 and ,i have fancied it     
bringing down all sorts of romance  and 
tragedy out of the hidden places if it  
could only talk4 ,so ,i went  to the end
 of it to find out its secrets for      
myself4 ,and there was so  much of      
interest that ,i could fill a book with 
it4 ,i don't think any  other white feet
 have ever traveled up this creek1 which
 ,i now call  8,lonesome40 ,surely not  

even an ,indian has been along it for at
 least a  generation1 for ,i did not    
find the mark of an ax or sign of a fire
 or  vestige of deadfall or trap-house4 
,but it did take me forty miles back    
into a country of such savage           
wilderness and dense forests that ,i    
have almost determined to build me      
another cabin there a little later1 if  
for no other reason than to live  for a 
while with the hundreds of owls that    
inhabit certain parts of it4  ,i have   
never seen so many owls anywhere in the 
,northland1 and ,i figure  this is      
because the big snow-shoe rabbits have  
been multiplying for  several years     
past1 and now exist there literally in  
thousands4 ,at many  places along the   
creek1 the earth was beaten hard by     
their furred feet4  ,by all the signs1  
,i have predicted that next year1 or the
 year after1  the 8seven-year           
rabbit-plague0 will come along and kill 
off ninety out  of every hundred4 ,then 
the owls will scatter1 and most of the  

lynxes  and foxes and wolves will wander
 off into other hunting grounds1 for    
the rabbit is the staff of life of the  
flesh-eating birds and beasts  of the   
big northern forests1 just as all the   
world over wheat is the  mainstay of    
human stomachs4    ,but ,i am wandering 
a bit from the point in mind--which is  
to say that1  in leaving on my journey  
of exploration1 ,i forgot to close the  
window  of my cabin1 and through that   
open window entered the rascally thief  
whom the pair of moose-birds are trying 
to tell me about4 ,i think ,bill  knows 
also1 but ,i don't believe he would give
 a brother robber away1  even if he did 
have four feet and a tail4 ,by tracks   
and two or three  other signs1 ,i know  
the thief is a wolverine1 who1 like the 
pack-rat  over in the mountains1 steals 
almost entirely for the fun of it4 ,this
  mischief-making humorist1 among other 
things1 has carried away a hat1  one of 
my two frying-pans1 several tins1 half a
 slab of bacon1 and my  favorite        

fish-cleaning knife during my absence4  
,but ,i know this clever  fellow's ways1
 and have hope that ,i shall soon       
recover my property if ,i  keep my eyes 
open and listen with both my ears4      
,and ,i shall not kill him1 no matter   
how red-handed--or red-footed--,i  catch
 him4 ,a few years ago1 ,i would have   
planned to ambush him with  a rifle4    
,but now ,i have the desire to become as
 intimate with him as  possible and     
learn a little more definitely what he  
wants with a  knife1 a skillet1 and my  
pans4 ,i feel that1 for his theft1 he   
should  in some way be rewarded and not 
slain1 for he has added to my interest  
in life by rousing a keen and harmless  
curiosity4 ,his is only one way  in     
which nature is constantly adding       
fullness of life and greater            
contentment to my years4 ,everywhere1   
even to the smallest things under  my   
feet and at my hand1 ,i am learning more
 and more of the marvelous  ways and    
life of all creation1 and the more ,i   

learn the more ,i am  convinced that ,i 
am simply an atom in its vast           
brotherhood1 and ,i am  finding a great 
happiness by making myself actually a   
part of it4    ,heretofore1 ,i have been
 a self-expatriated spark of life1 so to
 speak2  in my human egoism1 ,i have    
held myself apart from all other sparks 
of  life that were not formed in my own 
poor and unlovely shape--and1 even      
then1 ,i considered myself considerably 
better than those who did not  happen to
 be of my particular color and breed4   
,two very simple things are adding to my
 pleasure in life this early  afternoon1
 and illustrate the point ,i have in    
mind--if one can bow  one's head down to
 the level of understanding4 ,i am      
writing again  between the two big      
spruce trees1 but during my week of     
absence other  sparks of life have1 in a
 way1 taken possession of my table4     
,from  between two of the hewn saplings 
that form the top of this table1 where  
the big storm of wind must have flung a 

bit of earth and a seed1 a  tender green
 sprout of something has started to     
grow4 ,it is a single  spear now1 not of
 grass1 and its green is the whitish    
green of the  lower part of an asparagus
 shoot4 ,to me1 it seems fairly to pulse
 with  life1 and ,i have the very       
foolish feeling within me that nature   
planned  this little surprise for me    
while ,i was away1 and that1 if ,i give 
it a  bit of brotherly attention1 ,i am 
going to have a flower on my table1  not
 transplanted or plucked1 but there     
deliberately through friendship  for me4
 ,however foolish this notion may be1 it
 is a very pleasant one  to have1 and   
its effect is to bring me much nearer to
 the ,creator of  things than any sermon
 ,i could hear preached from a pulpit2  
for ,i am  not listening merely to words
 about ,god1 but ,i am looking directly 
at a  physical part of ,god1 and ,i find
 a great satisfaction in this faith4    
,a second interesting thing that has    
happened to my table is that it has     

become a plain across which now runs the
 trail of a big tribe of ants4  ,these  
ants1 ,i have found1 climb up the       
farthest right-hand support of  my table
 and proceed straight across to the big 
spruce on my left1 up  which they       
disappear2 and a returning file of the  
workers come down  the spruce and hit it
 8cross-country0 to the table-leg again4
 ,they  don't seem to be bearing any    
burdens1 yet they move with precision   
and  purpose1 and ,i have come to       
understand that1 when ants move in this 
way1 they have something very definite  
in mind4 ,i am convinced they  are      
moving from one fortress home to        
another1 or at least that every         
8working0 individual in the tribe is    
personally investigating some new       
discovery that has been made either up  
the spruce or in the direction  of the  
creek4 ,later1 ,i will know more about  
it4    ,but the point that impresses    
itself upon me most is that1 in my      
destroying days1 ,i would have swept the

 friendly little green sprout  from its 
cradle1 and would have driven the ant   
tribe from my property1  destroying as  
many of them as possible4 ,again ,i want
 to emphasize  that ,i am not a crank1  
or narrow-minded in my religion of 8live
 and  let live40 ,if this same tribe of 
ants had invaded my cabin1 and were     
preying on things necessary to me1 ,i   
would destroy them or drive them  away4 
,that is my nature-given privilege--to  
protect myself and what is  mine4 ,it is
 also the privilege of every other spark
 of life4 ,these same  ants1 were ,i to 
stand on their fortress1 would attack me
 desperately4  ,but now they do not     
molest me4 ,and ,i do not molest them4  
,it is the  beautiful law of 8live and  
let live0--so long as the necessity for 
destruction does not arise4    ,when ,i 
sat down at my typewriter an hour ago1  
,i had planned to  begin immediately the
 telling of what ,i have wandered       
somewhat away  from--the story of a few 
incidents which helped to bring about my

 own  regeneration1 and which at last   
impressed upon me this great ,golden    
,rule of all nature--live and let live4 
,the big dramatic climax in that  part  
of my life happened over in the ,british
 ,columbia mountains1 where  my love of 
adventure has taken me on many long     
journeys4    ,but the change had begun  
to work in me before then4 ,my          
conscience was  already stabbing me4 ,i 
was regretting1 in a mild sort of way1  
that  ,i had killed so much4 ,but ,i was
 still the supreme egoist1 believing    
myself the ,god-chosen animal of all    
creation1 and when at any time ,i       
withheld my destroying hand1 ,i         
flattered myself with a thought of my   
condescension and human kindness4    ,at
 the particular time ,i am going to     
write about1 ,i was on a big            
grizzly-hunt in a wild and unhunted part
 of the ,british ,columbia  mountains4  
,i had with me one man1 seven horses1   
and a pack of ,airedales  trained to    
hunt bear4 ,we had struck a             

grizzly-and-caribou paradise1  and there
 had been considerable killing1 when1   
one day1 we came upon  the trail of     
,thor1 the great beast that showed me   
how small in soul  and inclination a man
 can be4 ,in a patch of mud his feet had
 left  tracks that were fifteen inches  
from tip to tip1 and so wide and deep   
were the imprints that ,i knew ,i had   
come upon the king of all his  kind4 ,i 
was alone that morning1 for ,i had left 
camp an hour ahead of  my man1 who was  
two or three miles behind me with four  
of the horses  and the ,airedale pack4  
,i went on watching for a new campsite1 
for the  thrill of a great desire       
possessed me--the desire to take the    
life of  this monster king of the       
mountains4 ,it was in these moments that
 the  unexpected happened4 ,i came over 
a little rise1 not expecting that my    
bear was within two or three miles of   
me1 when something that was very  much  
like a low and sullen rumble of far-away
 thunder stopped the blood  in my veins4

    ,ahead of me1 on the edge of a      
little wallow of mud1 stood ,thor4 ,he  
had smelled me1 and1 ,i believe1 it was 
the first time he had ever  smelled the 
scent of man4 ,waiting for this new     
mystery in the air1 he  had reared      
himself up until the whole nine feet of 
him rested on his  haunches1 and he sat 
like a trained dog1 with his great      
forefeet1 heavy  with mud1 drooping in  
front of his chest4 ,he was a monster in
 size1  and his new ,june coat shone a  
golden brown in the sun4 ,his forearms  
were almost as large as a man's body1   
and the three largest of his five       
knifelike claws were five and a half    
inches long4 ,he was fat and sleek  and 
powerful4 ,his upper fangs1 sharp as    
stiletto-points1 were as long  as a     
man's thumb1 and between his great jaws 
he could have crushed the  neck of a    
caribou4 ,i did not take in all these   
details in the first  startling moments2
 one by one they came to me later4 ,but 
,i had never  looked upon anything in   

life quite so magnificent4 ,yet did ,i  
have no  thought of sparing that        
splendid life4 ,since that day1 ,i have 
rested in  camp with my head pillowed on
 the arm of a living grizzly that       
weighed  a thousand pounds4 ,friendship 
and love and understanding have sprung  
up between us4 ,but in that moment my   
desire was to destroy this life  that   
was so much greater than my own4 ,my    
rifle was at my saddle-horn in  its     
buckskin jacket4 ,i fumbled it in       
getting into action1 and in those       
precious moments ,thor lowered himself  
slowly and ambled away4 ,i fired  twice1
 and would have staked my life that ,i  
had missed both times4 ,not  until later
 did ,i discover that one of my bullets 
had opened a furrow  two inches deep and
 a foot long in the flesh of ,thor's    
shoulder4 ,yet ,i  did not see him      
flinch4 ,he did not turn back1 but went 
his way4    ,shame burns within me as ,i
 write of the days that followed2 and   
yet1  with that shame1 there is a deep  

and abiding joy1 for they were also  the
 days of my regeneration4 ,day and      
night1 my one thought was to  destroy   
the big grizzly4 ,we never left his     
trail4 ,the dogs followed  him like     
demons4 ,five times in the first week we
 came within long  shooting-range1 and  
twice we hit him4 ,but still he did not 
wait for us  or attack us4 ,he wanted to
 be left alone4 ,in that week1 he killed
 four  of the dogs1 and the others we   
tied up to save them4 ,we trailed him   
with horses and afoot1 and never did the
 spoor of other game lure me  aside4    
,the desire to kill him became a passion
 in me4 ,he outgeneraled  us4 ,he beat  
all our games of trickery4 ,but ,i knew 
that we were bound  to win--that he was 
slowly weakening because of exhaustion1 
and the  sickness of his wounds4 ,we    
loosed the dogs again1 and another was  
killed4    ,then1 at last1 came that    
splendid day when ,thor1 master of the  
mountains1 showed me how contemptible   
was ,i--with my human shape and  soul4  

,it was ,sunday4 ,i had climbed three or
 four thousand feet up the side  of a   
mountain and below me lay the wonder of 
the valley1 dotted with  patches of     
trees and carpeted with the beauty of   
rich1 green grass1  mountain-violets and
 forget-me-nots1 wild asters1 and       
hyacinths4 ,on  three sides of me spread
 out the wonderful panorama of the      
,canadian  ,rockies1 softened in the    
golden sunshine of late ,june4 ,from up 
and down  the valley1 from the breaks   
between the peaks1 and from the little  
gullies cleft in shale and rock that    
crept up to the snow-lines came a  soft 
and droning murmur4 ,it was the music of
 running water--music ever  in the air  
of summer1 for the rivers and creeks and
 tiny streamlets  gushing down from the 
melting snow up near the clouds are     
never still4  ,sweet perfumes as well as
 music came to me2 ,june and ,july--the 
last  of spring and the first of summer 
in the northern mountains--were         
commingling4 ,all the earth was bursting

 with green2 flowers were  turning the  
sunny slopes and meadows into colored   
splashes of red  and white and purple1  
and everything that had life was giving 
voice  to exultation--the fat whistlers 
on their rocks1 the pompous little      
gophers on their mounds1 the            
squirrel-like rock-rabbits1 the big     
bumblebees that buzzed from flower to   
flower1 the hawks in the valley1  and   
the eagles over the peaks4    ,earth1 it
 seemed1 was at peace4    ,and ,i1      
looking over all that vastness of life1 
felt my own greatness  thrust upon me4  
,for had not the ,creator1 of all       
things1 made this wonderland for me8    
,there could be no denial4 ,i was       
master--master because ,i could think1  
because ,i could reason1 because ,i held
 the reins to an unutterable  power of  
destruction4 ,and then the vastness of  
time seized upon me like  a living      
thing4 ,yesterday1 a thing had happened 
which came strongly  into my thoughts of
 to-day4 ,under a great overhanging     

cliff ,i had found  a part of a monster 
bone1 as heavy as iron--a section of a  
gigantic  vertebra4 ,two years before ,i
 had found part of the skeleton of a    
prehistoric creature1 identical with    
this1 and1 from photographs which  ,i   
took of it the scientific departments of
 the ,university of ,michigan  and the  
government at ,ottawa agreed that the   
bones were part of the  skeleton of a   
mammoth whale that once had swum where  
the valleys and  peaks of the ,rocky    
,mountains now disrupt the continent4   
,and on this ,sunday1 looking down1 ,i  
thought of the monster bone ,i  had     
found yesterday in the dry shale and    
sand under the cliff4 ,when  the ,three 
,wise ,men saw the star in the east1    
that bone was as ,i had  found it4 ,it  
was there when ,christ was born4 ,it was
 there1 unmoved  and untouched1 before  
,rome was founded1 before ,troy died in 
the mists  of the past1 before history1 
as we know history1 began4 ,it was there
  a million years ago1 ten million1     

fifty1 a hundred4 ,and1 thinking of     
this1 ,i felt myself growing smaller and
 smaller2 my egoism died away1  and ,i  
saw these mountains obliterated and     
under the blue of a vast  ocean1 and    
rising out of that ocean ,i saw other   
continents1 peopled  with other people1 
moved by other religions1 beating to the
 pulse of  other civilizations long     
dead4 ,i heard the beat of waves below  
me1  where grew the grass and the       
flowers of the valley4 ,and the droning 
music of that valley seemed to change   
into the low whisperings of  countless  
trillions of men and women and little   
children who had  lived and died in     
those other civilizations of the lost   
ages2 and  that fancied whispering of   
dead worlds told me a great truth--that 
the ,supreme ,arbiter of things had     
watched over all those trillions  just  
as he was now watching over me1 that ,i 
was but a pitifully small  grain of dust
 in the great scheme of things1 that my 
egoism was  criminal1 sacrilegious1 a   

curse set upon myself by myself4 ,and   
the  soft and droning whisper also told 
me the time would come when my own      
8civilization0 would be obliterated1 to 
be followed by a hundred1 a  thousand1  
or a million others1 each in its turn to
 live and die4    ,and it was then1 on  
that ,sunday precious to me1 that ,i    
asked myself an  old1 old question in a 
great1 new way--8,what is ,god80    ,and
 looking down into the valley1 and up   
into the sky1 understanding  came to me4
 ,god is there1 and there1 and there4   
,he is the ,infinite  ,power4 ,he is    
,life4 ,life began infinities ago1 and  
it will continue  through other         
infinities4 ,while we are squabbling    
among ourselves with  our little        
religions and our little views1 while we
 are preaching the  damnation of beliefs
 that are not ours1 while sects fight to
 convert  sects that do not think as    
they think1 while our narrow-gage minds 
travel in their narrow-gage paths1--that
 ,infinite ,power is watching  and      

waiting1 as it has watched and waited   
from the beginning1 and  as it will     
watch and wait until the end4 ,and ,i   
stared down into the  valley1 green and 
glorious and filled with sunshine and   
peace1 and that  low-sung whisper seemed
 to say1 8,if this is not ,god what is  
,god80 ,and  then also1 in a new way1   
came something in my brain which said to
 me1  8,and who are you80           99  
99       99       99       99    ,i     
climbed higher up the mountain4 ,i felt 
my greatness gone4 ,kindly1  something  
had told me how pitiful ,i was4 ,i was  
not mighty4 ,i was no  more in the      
ultimate of things than a blade of      
grass4 ,my egoism1 on  that glorious    
,sunday1 began to crumble in my soul4   
,and then1 by chance  if you will have  
it so1 came the climax of that day4     
,i came to a sheer wall of rock that    
rose hundreds of feet above me4  ,along 
this ran a narrow ledge1 and ,i followed
 it4 ,the passage became  craggy and    
difficult1 and in climbing over a broken

 mass of rock1 ,i  slipped and fell4 ,i 
had brought a light mountain-gun with   
me1 and in  trying to recover myself ,i 
swung it about with such force that the 
stock struck a sharp edge of rock and   
broke clean off4 ,but ,i had saved      
myself from possible death1 and was in a
 frame of mind to congratulate  myself  
rather than curse my luck4 ,fifty feet  
farther on ,i came to  a 8pocket0 in the
 cliff1 where the ledge widened until1  
at this  particular place1 it was like a
 flat table twenty feet square4 ,here ,i
  sat down1 with my back to the         
precipitous wall1 and began to examine  
my  broken rifle4    ,i laid it beside  
me1 useless4 ,straight up at my back    
rose the sheer  face of the mountain2 in
 front of me1 had ,i leaped from the    
ledge1  my body would have hurtled      
through empty air for a thousand feet4  
,in  the valley ,i could see the creek1 
like a ribbon of shimmering silver2  two
 or three miles away was a little lake2 
on another mountain ,i  saw a bursting  

cascade of water leaping down the       
heights and losing  itself in the       
velvety green of the lower timber4 ,for 
many minutes1  new and strange thoughts 
possessed me4 ,i did not look through my
  hunting-glasses1 for ,i was no longer 
seeking game4 ,my blood was  stirred1   
but not with the desire to kill4    ,and
 then1 suddenly1 there came a sound to  
my ears that seemed to  stop the beating
 of my heart4 ,i had not heard it until 
it was very  near--approaching along the
 narrow ledge4    ,it was the           
click1--click1--click of claws rattling 
on rock6    ,i did not move4 ,i hardly  
breathed4 ,and out from the ledge ,i had
  followed came a monster bear6    ,with
 the swiftness of lightning1 ,i         
recognized him4 ,it was ,thor6 ,and1 in 
that same instant1 the great beast saw  
me4    ,in thirty seconds ,i lived a    
lifetime1 and in those thirty seconds   
what passed through my mind was a       
thousand times swifter than spoken      
word4 ,a great fear rooted me1 and yet  

in that fear ,i saw everything to  the  
minutest detail4 ,thor's massive head   
and shoulders were fronting  me4 ,i saw 
the long naked scar where my bullet had 
plowed through  his shoulder2 ,i saw    
another wound in his fore leg1 still    
ragged and  painful1 where another of my
 soft-nosed bullets had torn like an    
explosion of dynamite4 ,the giant       
grizzly was no longer fat and sleek  as 
,i had first seen him ten days ago4 ,all
 that time he had been  fighting for his
 life2 he was thinner2 his eyes were    
red2 his coat was  dull and unkempt from
 lack of food and strength4 ,but at that
 distance1  less than ten feet from me1 
he seemed still a mighty brother of the 
mountains themselves4 ,as ,i sat        
stupidly1 stunned to the immobility of a
  rock in my hour of doom1 ,i felt the  
overwhelming conviction of what had     
happened4 ,thor had followed me along   
the ledge1 and1 in this hour of         
vengeance and triumph1 it was ,i1 and   
not the great beast1 who was about  to  

die4    ,it seemed to me that an        
eternity passed in these moments4 ,and  
,thor1  mighty in his strength1 looked  
at me and did not move4 ,and this thing 
that he was looking at1--shrinking      
against the rock1--was the creature     
that had hunted him2 this was the       
creature that had hurt him1 and  it was 
so near that he could reach out with his
 paw and crush it6  ,and how weak and   
white and helpless it looked now6 ,what 
a pitiful1  insignificant thing it was6 
,where was its strange thunder8 ,where  
was  its burning lightning8 ,why did it 
make no sound8    ,slowly ,thor's giant 
head began swinging from side to side2  
then he  advanced--just one step--and in
 a slow1 graceful movement reared       
himself to his full1 magnificent height4
 ,for me1 it was the beginning  of the  
end4 ,and in that moment1 doomed as ,i  
was1 ,i found no pity for  myself4      
,here1 at last1 was justice6 ,i was     
about to die4 ,i1 who had  destroyed so 
much of life1 found how helpless ,i was 

when ,i faced life  with my naked hands4
 ,and it was justice6 ,i had robbed the 
earth of  more life than would fill the 
bodies of a thousand men1 and now my    
own life was to follow that which ,i had
 destroyed4 ,suddenly fear left  me4 ,i 
wanted to cry out to that splendid      
creature that ,i was sorry1  and could  
my dry lips have framed the words1 it   
would not have been  cowardice--but     
truth4    ,i have read many stories of  
truth and hope and faith and charity4   
,from a little boy1 my father tried to  
teach me what it meant to be a          
gentleman1 and he lived what he tried to
 teach4 ,and from the days of my  small 
boyhood1 mother told me stories of great
 and good men and women1  and in the    
days of my manhood1 she faithfully lived
 the great truth  that of all precious  
things charity and love are the most    
priceless4  ,yet had ,i accepted it all 
in the narrowest and littlest way4 ,not 
until  this hour on the edge of the     
cliff did ,i realize how small can be   

the  soul of a man buried in his        
egoism--or how splendid can be the soul 
of  a beast4    ,for ,thor knew me4     
,that ,i know4 ,he knew me as the       
deadliest of all  his enemies on the    
face of the earth4 ,yet until ,i die    
will ,i believe  that1 in my            
helplessness1 he no longer hated me or  
wanted my life4 ,for  slowly he came    
down upon all fours again1 and1 limping 
as he went1 he  continued along the     
ledge--and left me to live6           99
       99       99       99       99    
,i am not1 in these days1 sacrilegious  
enough to think that the ,supreme       
,power picked my poor insignificant self
 from among a billion and a half  other 
humans especially to preach a sermon to 
that glorious ,sunday  on the           
mountainside4 ,possibly it was all mere 
chance4 ,it may be that  another day    
,thor would have killed me in my        
helplessness4 ,it may all  have been a  
lucky accident for me4 ,personally1 ,i  
do not believe it1  for ,i have found   

that the soul of the average beast is   
cleaner of hate  and of malice than that
 of the average man4 ,but whether one   
believes  with me or not1 does not      
matter1 so far as the point ,i want to  
make is  concerned--that from this hour 
began the great change in me1 which has 
finally admitted me into the peace and  
joy of universal brotherhood  with      
,life4 ,it matters little how a sermon  
or a great truth comes to  one2 it is   
the result that counts4    ,i returned  
down the mountain1 carrying my broken   
gun with me4 ,and  everywhere ,i saw    
that things were different4 ,the fat    
whistlers1 big as  woodchucks1 were no  
longer so many targets1 watching me     
cautiously from  the rock-tops2 the     
gophers1 sunning themselves on their    
mounds1 meant  more to me now than a few
 hours ago4 ,i looked off to a distant  
slide  on another mountain and made out 
the half-dozen sheep ,i had studied     
through my glasses earlier in the day4  
,but my desire to kill was gone4  ,i did

 not realize the fullness of the change 
that was upon me then4  ,in a dull sort 
of way1 ,i accepted it as an effect of  
shock1 perhaps  as a passing moment of  
repentance and gratitude because of my  
escape4  ,i did not tell myself that ,i 
would never kill sheep again except when
  mutton was necessary to my camp fire4 
,i did not promise the whistlers  long  
lives4 ,and yet the change was on me1   
and growing stronger in my  blood with  
every breath ,i drew4 ,the valley was   
different4 ,its air was  sweeter4 ,its  
low song of life and running waters and 
velvety winds  whispering between the   
mountains was new inspiration to me4    
,the grass  was softer under my feet2   
the flowers were more beautiful2 the    
earth  itself held a new thrill for me4 
99       99       99       99       99  
,a few nights later1 beside a small fire
 we had built in the  cool of evening1  
,i tried to tell old ,donald something  
about the  ,transfiguration1 how ,christ
 had gone up on the mount with ,peter   

and  ,john and ,james1 and what had     
happened there4    8,it wasn't that     
,christ himself was actually changed as 
he prayed on  the mountain-top10 ,i said
 to ,donald4 8,the change was in ,peter 
and ,john  and ,james1 who in these     
moments saw ,christ with a new vision   
and a new  understanding4 ,the          
,transfiguration was simply a mental    
process of their  own2 they saw clearly 
now where before they had been half     
blind4 ,and ,i  am wondering if this old
 world of ours wouldn't change for us in
 the  same way if we saw it with        
understanding1 and looked at it with    
clean  eyes80           99       99     
99       99       99    ,so1 on this    
other ,sunday1 as the evening draws on1 
,i look back through  the years between 
me and that day on the mountain-top1 and
 the memory  of ,thor fills a warm      
corner of my heart4 ,through him ,i have
 the happy  thought that ,i was given   
birth into a new world1 and all things  
now  hold a new significance for me4 ,i 

have discovered for myself1 in a  small 
way1 the wonderful secret of the        
instinctive processes of nature1  and in
 a thousand ways ,i have found this     
instinct1 coming directly from  the     
fount of supreme direction1 far more    
amazing than reasoning itself4  ,i      
understand more clearly1 ,i think1 why  
all humanity loves a baby1 no  matter   
how ugly it may be4 ,it is because it is
 so utterly dependent  upon instinct    
alone1 so completely helpless1 so       
absolutely without  reason or protection
 of its own4 ,we like to believe that a 
baby is very  close to ,god1 simply     
because it has no reasoning and because 
it is as  yet purely a creature of      
instinctive processes4 ,and yet1 as we  
lay down  our lives for its protection1 
we forget that adult man1 with all his  
reasoning and his power1 was originally 
a creature of instinct himself4  ,we    
forget that it took millions of years to
 give him a language1 and  that         
possession of language alone has made   

him a super-creature4 ,for  it is       
language that gives birth to reason1    
allows of communication  of thought1 and
 should man be suddenly bereft of all   
language and  thought-communication he  
would1 in the course of ages1 revert    
again  into a creature guided solely by 
instinct4 ,in that event he would be    
nothing more or less than a brother to  
all other creatures of instinct4  ,he   
would again become an ordinary member of
 the ,ancient ,brotherhood of  ,common  
,heritage1 and could no longer call     
himself the ,chosen ,one and  the       
,ordained of ,god4 ,but good luck came  
to him1 perhaps even in the  days when  
he may have swung from the trees by his 
tail--good luck in  the discovery of a  
crude method of thought-communication1 a
 discovery  that developed through the  
ages1 until now his head is turned1 so  
to  speak1 and for tens of thousands of 
years he has looked down more and  more 
upon his poor relations who have not had
 his own good fortune4    ,but ,i am    

learning that time has not freed him1   
and never will free  him1 from his blood
 relationship4 ,and creed may follow    
creed1 and  religion may follow         
religion1 but never will he find that   
full peace  and contentment which might 
be his lot until he recognizes and      
admits  into his comradeship again the  
soul of that nature which is his own    
mother1 and forgets his monumental      
egoism in a new understanding of  those 
instinctive processes of nature through 
which he1 himself1 passed  in the       
kindergarten of his own existence4      
,this is my faith1 my religion4 ,close  
to where ,i am sitting is an old  stub1 
clothed in a mass of wood-vine1 warm and
 vivid in the golden glow  of the       
setting sun4 ,the wood-vine has climbed1
 instinctively1 to the  top of the stub1
 and now1 finding their support gone1   
half a dozen long  tendrils are reaching
 out toward a tall young birch six or   
eight feet  away4 ,one tendril1 stronger
 and older than the others1 has reached 

and  clasped the nearest branch4 ,the   
others are following unerringly4 ,yet   
they have no eyes to see4 ,no voice     
calls back to them to point out  the    
way4 ,it is the instinct of life itself 
that is guiding them1 the  same         
instinct1 in a smaller way1 that dragged
 man up bit by bit from  out of the     
black chaos of the past4 ,in a thousand 
other ways1 if one  will take the       
blindfold from his eyes and try to      
understand1 he may see  this mightiest  
of all the forces of the                
earth--instinct--a vibrant1  breathing1 
struggling thing about him1 a force so  
much more powerful  than his own1 so    
all-consuming and indestructible that it
 stands out as  a giant mountain        
compared with the mole-hill of his own  
littleness4 ,in  my own faith1 ,i see it
 as a vast and inexhaustible reservoir  
of life1  of strength1 of 8upward       
climb10 of inspiration4 ,i see it as the
 one  great1 all-necessary force of     
creation--a force more precious to man  

than all the mines of the earth1 more   
precious than all the treasure of  the  
mints1 if he would forget his greatness 
and reach out his hands to  it in the   
gladness of a new brotherhood4    ,dusk 
is falling4 ,and1 as ,i stop my work1   
here in the heart of a forest1  ,i seem 
to see the smiles of many who will read 
this1 and ,i seem to hear  the low and  
unbelieving laughter of those who think 
themselves of the  flesh and blood of   
,god4 ,and ,i seem to hear their voices 
saying3    8,he is wrong4 ,nature is    
beautiful--sometimes4 ,also1 it is      
crude4 ,it  is rough4 ,it is            
destructive4 ,it is1 half the time1 a   
pest4 ,while  we--we--have we not       
performed wonders8 ,have we not proved  
ourselves  the chosen of ,god8 ,have we 
not created nations8 ,have we not built 
up  great cities8 ,have we not          
accumulated vast riches8 ,have we not   
invented  the ,dollar8 ,are we not1 in a
 hundred ways1 shackling nature as a man
  harnesses a horse1 proving ourselves  

its masters1 and it our slave80    ,i   
hear--and then ,i hear another voice1   
and softly1 distantly1 it says3         
8,yea6 you are great--in your own eyes4 
,you have made nations and  cities and  
great tabernacles--and you have created 
the ,dollar4 ,but1  when1 for a moment1 
you cease the mad struggle you are      
making1 you  are afraid4 ,yes2 you cry  
out loudly then in your fear4 ,you fight
 to  bring ghosts back1 that they may   
tell you what happens when you lie  down
 and die4 ,you cry out for a religion   
which will give you absolute  faith and 
comfort and cannot find it4 ,you think  
you are great because  you have built   
skyscrapers and ride close to the clouds
 and have made  it possible to rush     
swiftly through a country choked with   
dust4 ,but you  forget quickly4 ,you    
forget how little you were--yesterday4  
,you do not  tell yourself that you are 
a pest1 perhaps the greatest of all4    
,yea2  you are great1 and in your       
greatness you are wise1 but all that    

which  you have achieved cannot give you
 that which you so vainly seek--the     
contentment of a deep and abiding       
faith40           99       99       99  
99       99    ,the ,fourth ,trail ,,the
 ,,road ,,to ,,faith           99       
99       99       99       99           
,the ,fourth ,trail ,,the ,,road ,,to   
,,faith      ,it has been some time     
since ,i sat down to work at my table   
under the  tall spruce trees4 ,i have   
had an experience during the past five  
or six  days which is one of my rewards 
for letting nature live1 and1 for a     
space1 it quite completely upset me1 so 
far as work was concerned4    ,in other 
words1 ,i have been having an experience
 with a species of  vermin which ,i     
love4 ,the baby vermin of this          
particular species are1  to me1 almost  
as lovable and quite as cute in their   
ways as human  babies2 and for the adult
 vermin1 the mothers and fathers of the 
babies1 ,i have a far greater love and  
respect than ,i have for many  males and

 females of my own breed4 ,and1 taking  
it all round1 they are  a cleaner1      
handsomer1 and more wholesome-looking   
lot than the average  crowd of humans1  
though they are--because of the         
mightiness of man's  edict--nothing more
 than vermin4    ,i am speaking of      
bears4 ,a few years ago1 one of my most 
thrilling  sports was to hunt           
them--blacks1 grizzlies1 and polars4    
,now ,i consider  them1 in a way1 my    
brothers1 and ,i am having a lot of fun 
in the  comradeship4 ,i am filled with  
resentment when ,i consider that in all 
the states of this country1 with the    
exception of two or three1 the  law says
 these friends of mine are 8vermin10    
along with lice and fleas  and maggots1 
and that they may be killed on sight1   
babies and all1  because1--perhaps once 
in his lifetime1--a bear living very    
close to  civilization may make a meal  
of pig or lamb4 ,if every human mother  
in  the land could hold a baby cub in   
her arms for five minutes1 there  would 

be such an uprising of feminine sympathy
 that the laws would be  repealed4      
,in thinking again of our mothers1 ,i   
would give a good year of my  life if a 
million of them could have seen what ,i 
have seen during  the past few days4    
,for1 after all1 ,i believe that nearly 
all great  movements toward better and  
bigger and more beautiful things must   
and  will begin with women4 ,no amount  
of 8equality0 will ever take that       
blessed superiority to men away from    
them4 ,to-day1 even religion1  shameful 
to men as the fact may be1 rests on a   
pillar of women's white  shoulders1 and 
all the faith that the world possesses  
first finds  its resting-place in their 
soft breasts4 ,and ,i look ahead to the 
day1  with unbounded faith of my own1   
when women will see1 and understand1    
and begin the great fight toward        
comradeship with all that other life    
which is so utterly dependent about them
 now--life which throbs and  urges in   
every living thing from the grass-blade 

and the oak to the  8instinct0 creatures
 of flesh and blood4 ,then shall we have
 a 8religion  of nature10 with a force  
and a might behind it which will glorify
 the  earth1 and man will come to       
realize that he is not ,god1 but only an
  insignificantly small part of ,god's  
handiwork4 ,and when man comes to  that 
point1 where he casts off his arrogance 
and his ego1 then will the  time have   
come for the birth of a satisfying and  
universal faith in  that great and      
all-embracing ,power which we know and  
speak of in our  own language as ,god4  
,and the very foundation of this faith1 
,i believe1 will be an  understanding of
 all life1 the acknowledgment at last   
that man  himself may not be a more     
precious physical manifestation of the  
,supreme ,vital ,force than many of the 
other created things about him4    ,it  
is because ,i believe that nature1 the  
mother of all life1 is trying  to teach 
us this great truth in a thousand or a  
million different ways1  in the smoke   

and grime and crush of big cities as    
well as in farm-land  and forest1 that  
,i come back to my little experience    
with the bears4    ,about six or seven  
miles to the north of me is a great     
ridge1 plainly  visible from one of the 
halfway limbs of my lookout spruce1 a   
sort  of barrier which rises up between 
me and the still vaster hinterland      
beyond it4 ,sometime in the past1 a fire
 swept over it1 so that now  it is      
covered with a gorgeous and splendid    
growth of young birch and  poplars1 and 
virile patches of vines on which1 a     
little later1 there  will be an         
abundance of strawberries1 raspberries1 
rose-berries1 and  black currants4 ,it  
is also richly sprinkled with           
mountain-ash trees1  which give promise 
of a yield of hundreds of bushels of    
fruit this late  summer and autumn4     
,altogether1 it is an ideal             
feeding-range for wild  things1 hoof1   
claw1 and feathers4 ,three times ,i have
 traveled for miles  along the cap of   

this ridge4 ,to me1 in all its richness 
and promise1  it is a glorious          
manifestation of ,life4 ,it breathes    
under me and about  me4 ,i can fairly   
hear its compelling youth bursting from 
its growing  leaves1 its swelling       
fruits1 its flowers1 and from the mold  
that  pulses and throbs with the vital  
forces under my feet4 ,i almost think ,i
  could live and die on this ridge1 or  
another ridge like it1 and never  be at 
loss for company4    ,on my first visit 
to the ridge1 being overtaken by storm1 
,i built me  a brush shelter in a lovely
 spot close to it1 with a tiny creek of 
spring-cold water not more than a dozen 
paces away4 ,on my third and  last      
visit1 ,i returned to this spot1 and ran
 face on into my adventure4    ,from the
 sheltered bower of balsams where ,i had
 built my wigwam1 ,i  could look up a   
rolling1 meadowy breast of the ridge1 so
 perfect in its  adornment of vine and  
bush and small clumps of young trees    
that1 to  one not entirely acquainted   

with the exquisite art of nature1 it    
would  almost seem as though a human    
landscape-architect had 8laid out0 the  
little paradise which was my hillside   
back yard4 ,on this particular  morning1
 coming up quietly1 my eyes were greeted
 by an amazingly pretty  spectacle4 ,the
 green hillside1 soft and velvety in the
 sunlight and  shadow of the morning1   
was in full possession of two families  
of black  bears4    ,so close were the  
nearest of them to me that ,i dropped   
like a shot  behind a big rock1 and the 
breath of air that was stirring being in
 my  favor1 ,i was at a splendid        
vantage-point to take in the whole      
scene4  ,within forty yards of me were a
 mother and three cubs1 and a little    
higher up--perhaps twice that           
distance--were a mother and two cubs4   
,at almost the very crest of the ridge  
were two more bears1 which ,i at  first 
thought were adults4 ,a closer          
inspection assured me they were  last   
year's cubs1 and possibly not more than 

a third grown1 though to  which of the  
two mothers they belonged1 if to either1
 ,i could not make  up my mind4         
,frequently1 instead of setting out in  
life for itself1 a  black bear cub will 
follow its mother through a second      
season1 and ,i  judged this to be the   
situation here4    ,for two hours1 ,i   
did not move from my place of           
concealment4 ,that  spectacle of        
motherhood and babyhood on the hillside1
 with the virile  and luxuriant life of 
nature pulsing and beating all about it1
 was  a new chapter in my book of       
religion4 ,it was pointing out to me1 in
  perhaps a hundredth or a thousandth   
lesson1 that all life is the same1  and 
that it is only language1 or the want of
 language1 that makes the  difference in
 the 8life-relationship0 of all created 
things4 ,i could  fancy1 as ,i lay      
there1 just how the ,supreme ,arbiter of
 things had  given physical being to all
 this life that was about me1 as well as
  the life that was in me4 ,it has all  

come from the same dynamo1 so to        
speak--a spark of it in each tree1 a    
spark of it in each flower and  shrub1  
and blade of grass1 a spark of it in    
each of the beasts of flesh  and blood  
on the hillside1 and a spark of it in   
me4 ,our life was the  same4 ,it had all
 come from the same vital source1 from  
the same supreme  fount of existence4   
,yet how different were the forms it    
animated6 ,close  to my hand was a      
beautiful rock-violet1 blue as the sky1 
its velvety  petals freckled with tiny  
flecks of gold2 a few yards away1       
perched  among the rustling leaves of a 
birch1 a brush-warbler filled the air   
with melody2 back of me1 the tops of the
 thick balsams whispered  softly1 and up
 there ,i could hear the grunting of the
 mother bears1  the squealing of the    
little cubs1 and a gentle murmuring     
sound that  came from the ridge itself1 
as if all living things were fighting   
for a  language1 struggling to give     
voice to something that was in them4    

,i have had some amusement and a little 
discord over the teapot tempests  that  
so-called nature-scientists occasionally
 stir up among themselves  over the     
8humanizing0 of wild life4 ,man's ego   
has possessed him so  utterly that it is
 distasteful to him to concede anything 
8humanlike0  to any creature that is not
 in his own flesh and form4 ,for my     
part1  loving all wild life as ,i do1 ,i
 am proud and glad that it does not     
possess more of our human qualities4 ,if
 ,i write honestly of what has  come to 
me in my own wide experience in nature1 
,i must--no matter how  unpleasant the  
statement may be--confess that wild life
 does possess  a great many             
characteristics that are very 8human10  
and the ways of its  members are in many
 instances strangely the same4 ,i could 
see little  difference between my bears 
on the hillside and two human mothers   
and  their children1 except in their    
physical appearance1 and the fact that  
the humans would undoubtedly have made a

 great deal more noise4 ,but the  bears 
were handsomer--begging the ladies'     
pardon4 ,their sleek coats  shone like  
black satin in the sun1 and the cubs    
were cute enough to  hug to death4 ,but 
they were a worry to their mothers for  
all that1 and  especially one of them1  
which appeared to be the hog-it-all     
member of  the family nearest me4       
,whenever the mother bear pawed over a  
stone or  pulled down a tender bush1    
this little customer was always there   
ahead  of the rest of the family1       
licking up the choicest grubs and ants  
and  getting the first mouthful of      
greens4 ,half a dozen times1 the mother 
slapped him with her paw1 rolling him   
over like a fat ball4 ,but there  could 
have been no very great corrective power
 in the cuffings1 or else  he was       
toughened to them by usage1 for he was  
back on the job again  without very much
 loss of time4    ,for almost two hours1
 the bears fed on the hillside4 ,several
 times  the two families drew so near   

together that the cubs intermingled and 
the mothers almost rubbed sides4 ,i feel
 that the interest of this  particular  
page would be greatly increased for many
 of my readers  if ,i added a ferocious 
imaginary fight between the two mothers 
and  a bloody feud between the          
youngsters4 ,bears do fight when they   
meet--sometimes--just like humans1 only 
not as often4 ,but it is my  duty to    
relate that these bears were at peace on
 this particular day1  and that they    
seemed to enjoy the mutual              
companionship4 ,it was all so  fine that
 ,i had an impelling desire to go up on 
the hillside and become  a comrade with 
them4 ,when the feeding was over1 and   
the cubs were  wrestling and running    
about in play1 ,i almost rose up from   
behind my  rock to call out my          
friendship to them4 ,the lack of one    
thing held me  back--that one thing     
which all nature is crying out for--a   
language4  ,i feel they would have      
welcomed me could ,i have told them ,i  

was a  friend1 and wanted to play with  
them1 and make them a present of some   
sugar4 ,but instead of that this is what
 happened3    ,in their play1 two of the
 cubs had descended within twenty feet  
of my  rock4 ,one of these was the      
gourmand4 ,somehow1 he lost his balance1
  rolled over1 and came tumbling down4  
,when he stopped he was not more  than  
half a dozen feet from me4 ,as he       
brought his fat little body to  its feet
 he saw me4 ,his eyes fairly popped4 ,it
 seemed to me that for a  full minute he
 did not move or breathe4 ,and during   
that same minute ,i  remained as still  
as a rock4 ,in his amazement and his    
wonder1 he was  the funniest thing ,i   
had ever seen1 and in spite of myself1  
my face  broke into a grin4 ,instantly  
there came out of him a little1 piggish 
grunt1--and he was off4 ,up that        
hillside he went as if the world was    
after him4 ,he did not stop when he     
reached his mother and the other  cubs1 
but seemed to hit it still faster for   

the top of the ridge4 ,the  mother      
looked after him1 sniffed the air1 and  
rose to her feet4 ,in  half a minute1   
she was lumbering after him1 the two    
remaining cubs  hustling ahead of her4  
,a hundred yards away1 the second mother
 bear took the warning4 ,in a  very     
short time1 they had all disappeared    
over the cap of the ridge4  ,i had not  
shown myself4 ,i had made no sound4 ,the
 wind was still in my  favor4 ,yet the  
frightened cub had given warning to them
 all4 ,for no  other creature but man   
would they have fled like that4 ,even in
 the face  of a pack of wolves1 the     
mothers would have turned to fight4     
,something  had told them that man was  
near--yet only the cub had seen and     
smelled  that man1 and he had probably  
never seen or smelled another4 ,yet he  
knew1 and all the others knew1 that man 
was the deadliest of all  enemies4 ,and 
,i am half convinced1 as ,i write this1 
that nature has  at least the beginning 
of a universal language1 that the       

centuries  and hundreds of centuries    
have given it four words1 and these     
words  are3 8,man is our enemy40 ,i     
might fancy that the winds carry these  
words1 that the tree-tops whisper them1 
that they are in the undertone  of      
running waters1 that all life outside of
 man and man's pitiably  few friends    
has1 in some strange way1 come to learn 
them4 ,it is1 ,i  confess1 an elusive   
sort of fancy1--but it sets one to      
thinking4    ,it makes one wonder1 for  
instance1 why man is so jealous of      
himself4  ,the ,supreme ,power is       
immeasurable1 he tells himself4 ,it has 
no such a  thing as limitation4 ,heaven1
 no matter in what form he may conceive 
it1 is utterly boundless4 ,yet he is    
jealous of it4 ,he does not want to     
concede that any other life will form a 
part of it but that of his own  breed4  
,he has tried1 through unnumbered       
centuries1 to fool himself into  the    
belief that he is the one and only thing
 in all creation upon which  the ,ruling

 ,power of the universe has its guardian
 eye4 ,he has tried  to make himself    
believe that he is the one toad in the  
huge puddle of  life4 ,he has not       
conceded that an all-powerful but tender
 ,god might  love flowers and birds and 
trees and many other living things as   
well  as he loves man4 ,and as ,i sit   
here under my spruce trees again1 it    
seems to me that1 just because he has   
been so near-sighted1 man has not  yet  
found a faith which is all-comforting   
and of which he is utterly  sure4    ,i 
seem to see a very clear reason for     
this4 ,in this age1 though  still       
fettered by his egoism1 man is not      
utterly blind to his own  deformities4  
,as 8civilization0 progresses1 he sees  
more and more what  a monster he has    
been in the past1 and what a monster in 
many ways he  is to-day4 ,he sees his   
breed committing every crime known to   
the ages1  from petty larceny to        
world-slaughters that devastate nations4
 ,he sees  everywhere the strong taking 

advantage of the weak4 ,he sees millions
 go  hungry and cold that a few may     
profit4 ,in great convention-halls1 he  
sees the 8statesmen0 that rule the      
destiny of a mighty nation cutting      
capers and acting generally like a lot  
of silly little children4 ,he  sees     
every man in a great game fighting to   
see who can accumulate the  most        
dollars1 no matter at what cost to the  
others4 ,he sees sickening  and         
disgusting fads come and go4 ,he looks  
on a world-brothel of  iniquity1 of     
discontent1 of avarice and greed and    
butchery among men4  ,nowhere does he   
see the stability1 the dignity1 and the 
mighty forces  of good that should walk 
hand in hand with 8the chosen of ,god40 
,he is beginning to see himself1 at     
last1 as a contemptible specimen of     
life--in spite of his brain and his     
inventions4    ,he is beginning to      
understand that the most perfect airship
 his brain  will ever conceive cannot   
take him to heaven4    ,he is beginning 

to realize that there is a thing greater
 than brain1  greater than mechanical   
progress4    ,and as he comes to        
understand more and more how imperfect a
 thing he  is1 the more unstable his    
faith becomes2 and the sacrilegious     
thought  comes to him1 unconsciously but
 with terrific force3 8,if ,i am the    
chosen handiwork of ,god1 then ,i can   
have no very great faith in the         
judgment and workmanship of ,god40      
,and as the suspicion grows upon him    
that he may not be the 8one and  only0  
child of ,god1 he cries out wildly in   
these modern days for  evidence4 ,he    
tries to bring spirits back from the    
dead that they may  offer him some      
proof4 ,he quests vainly for            
8revelations0 that may  satisfy him4 ,he
 says with his mouth1 8,yes2 ,i believe 
absolutely in  ,god10 yet1 in his heart1
 he knows that he is half               
lying1--because of  fear of what his    
neighbor will think if he speaks the    
truth4 ,he wants  to believe there is a 

,god4 ,he wants to know there is a ,god4
 ,yet he is  afraid4    ,and1           
personally1 ,i am glad that the time has
 come when he is afraid4 ,i  think it is
 the real beginning of his salvation and
 the dropping-away  of his egoism4      
,to-day he is beginning to see all life 
as he did not  see it yesterday4 ,and   
to-morrow his eyes will be wide open4   
,that is my faith4 ,i believe that ,god 
is greater than humanity has ever       
conceived him to be4 ,i think he is 8a  
common sort of fellow10 and ,i  write   
these words with all the holy reverence 
of which the soul is  capable4 ,i do not
 mean to imply that ,i think he is in my
 form1 or in  any particular form4 ,but 
he is ,life4 ,and it is his intention   
and his  desire that every living thing 
that is worthy of life be a part of him4
  ,i am almost ,indian in this faith4 ,i
 can hear the buoyant1 cheering call  of
 ,life in a waterfall4 ,the inspiration 
of it comes into my own body  from out  
of a whispering tree1 from a bush       

glowing with bloom1 from a  flower1 from
 the song of a bird1 from the rain      
itself4 ,i find great  peace and        
contentment in my faith that this ,god  
is everywhere1 and that  we may meet him
 face to face fifty times a day if we   
throw off the hard  shell of our egoism1
 and realize that all nature is         
,god--and that we1  as men and women and
 children1 are a part of that           
all-embracing nature4    ,even now the  
sun is filtering through the            
tree-branches upon this  partly written 
page4 ,i look at it1 and ,i see again   
the inconceivable  greatness of the     
,supreme ,power1 and my own microscopic 
littleness4 ,for  we of the earth have  
thought that the earth is great1 and    
that we1  having inherited the earth1   
are of all things greatest4 ,yet is that
 sun  which warms and lights my page as 
,i write--more than a million times  as 
large as the earth--more than eight     
hundred thousand miles from  one end of 
its diameter to the other4 ,and the     

still more stupendous  fact is that this
 sun is itself only a small bit of      
mechanism in the  mighty forces of      
infinity1 for there are a hundred       
million other  suns in space1 each      
lighting and warming its own            
worlds--innumerable  worlds--each       
peopled with its own type of flesh and  
blood1 and each  possessing1 perhaps1   
its own peculiar forms of 8civilization0
 and its  own savagery4    ,just that   
great1 and vast1 and all-embracing is   
the handiwork of that  vital force which
 rules all infinity--and to which we    
have given the  name of ,god4    ,and   
here ,i emphasize again that great truth
 which nature has impressed  upon       
me--that1 just so long as man considers 
himself the one and only  chosen part of
 ,god1 and therefore next to him in     
greatness1 just that  long will his     
egoism and self-conceit blind him to the
 greatness and  glory of the real truth1
 and to the glory of the faith which    
might be  his4 ,i believe that ,christ  

was a great teacher1 that he was a great
  student of his times1 and incorporated
 into his teachings all that was        
highest and best in the teachings of    
other great men who had lived  and died 
before him4 ,and ,i have always         
regretted that ,christ was  unfortunate 
to have for his historians a set of men 
who were unequal  to their task1 many of
 them narrow-minded1 moved by 8visions0 
and  superstitions instead of fact1 men 
who believed in all the miracles of  the
 imagination from conversing with angels
 to stopping the sun1--men  utterly     
incapable of writing down calmly and    
truthfully those mighty  teachings of   
,christ which1 had they been written as 
they were spoken1  would have meant so  
much for the world to-day4 ,for ,i      
believe1 in my  own heart1 that ,christ 
was the greatest lover of nature that   
history  knows of to the present day4 ,i
 believe that in the many years of his  
8disappearance10 ,christ was not only   
studying the teachings of the  past1 but

 that1 close to the breast of nature1 he
 was learning the  splendid truths of   
life--all life--which were afterward the
 very heart  and soul of his messages to
 mankind4    ,i believe that ,christ1   
could he return to earth to-day1 would  
say3  8,my biographers have given you a 
wrong impression of me1 and they  have  
misquoted me4 ,what my soul was called  
upon to teach nineteen  hundred years   
ago1 they have clothed in the raiment of
 superstition1 of  misunderstanding1 and
 of impossible miracle4 ,for ,i am a    
man1 even as  thee and thine4 ,but ,i   
have found the true faith4 ,and that    
faith1 as ,i  told them then1 depends   
utterly upon the dropping of the scales 
of self  from man's eyes1 and his       
understanding of all life4 ,for that ,i 
gladly  died40    ,the greatest regret  
,i have is that ,christ1 as a man1 did  
not foresee  more clearly the tremendous
 influence his teachings were to exert  
upon  humanity through the ages4 ,had he
 guessed this1 he would have written    

down with his own hand those teachings  
which were so carelessly left  to the   
mercy of superstitious--frequently      
fanatical--and at nearly all  times     
incapable biographers4 ,for ,christ1 of 
all men that ever lived1  was           
undoubtedly one of the best and the most
 humble4 ,his teachings  came straight  
from his heart4 ,he did not intend that 
they should be  smothered in hyperbole1 
metaphor1 and rhetorical embroidery     
until no  two living men could agree    
absolutely upon their meaning4 ,i       
believe  that he spoke simply and       
directly1 for only in that way could he 
have  reached the hearts of the masses4 
,and ,i believe that the greatest of    
all his lessons was the lesson of       
humility4 ,as a man1 he had dropped  his
 egoism1 had submitted himself to the   
,master of all life1 and in  that       
submission he had found the truth1 and  
the glory of a great  faith4 ,the       
misfortune of the humanity to follow in 
after-ages was that  the world of ,jesus

 ,christ was small--so small that by    
word of mouth  he could reach from end  
to end of it4 ,had he dreamed that there
 were  still undiscovered worlds so     
great that in comparison his own was but
 a  handful of dirt out of a wagon-load1
 ,i am convinced within myself that  the
 world to-day would not be struggling to
 understand a faith written  in parables
 and riddles1 for ,christ would have set
 his own hand to the  task which others 
so poorly accomplished4    ,with such a 
priceless inheritance in the form of    
,christ's own  handiwork1 ,i am equally 
sure that humanity would no longer have 
an excuse for its egoism1 or be ashamed 
of that humility which  is necessary to 
the understanding of life1 and essential
 to the  possession of a deep and       
abiding faith4           99       99    
99       99       99    ,i have1 at     
times1 heard intelligent people express 
amazement that  ,i should dare to place 
human life on an equal level with all   
other  life1 that ,i should so          

8blaspheme the ,creator0 as to say that 
the  life in a two-legged animal who can
 talk is the same as that in a  flower  
or a plant or a tree or some other      
animal which cannot talk4 ,i  have      
sometimes allowed myself to point out   
the innumerable advantages  possessed   
over man by many living things which    
have no language1 as  we know language4 
,i could fill a dozen volumes with      
word-pictures of  the thousands and tens
 of thousands of advantages which living
 things  outside of man possess over    
man1 and which1 if man could achieve1   
would  be stupendous miracles4 ,but man1
 collectively1 is blinded by his egoism 
to the marvelous attainments of all life
 that does not walk and talk as  he     
walks and talks4 ,when confronted by the
 incontrovertible wonder and  apparent  
miracle of other life as compared with  
his own ,i have nearly  always found    
that men and women fall back1 as a last 
resort1 on the  absurd and shallow      
argument3 8,but this other life you     

speak of has  only instinct4 ,it cannot 
talk2 it cannot reason1 and therefore it
 is  impossible for it to have a soul40 
,once a beautiful young matron said to  
me1 8,there is much in your creed  that 
is inspiring and beautiful1 but it      
reaches a point where it is             
inconceivable1 for you must concede that
 a human being is the most  perfect of  
all created things40    ,i gave her an  
exquisite rose which ,i had plucked from
 my garden only a  few minutes before4  
8,there are1 outside of men and women   
and children1 innumerable things  more  
perfectly created than this flower10 ,i 
said4 8,are you1 in your  youth and     
beauty1 as perfect as that rose80       
99       99       99       99       99  
,and yet ,i know that such arguments as 
these1 innumerable though they  might   
be1 cannot prevail until men and women  
bring themselves face  to face with     
nature itself1 filled with a willingness
 and a yearning  to understand4 ,they   
point out the pests of life--the        

serpent1 the  deadly insects1 the plants
 that scar and poison2 yet they cannot  
see themselves as perhaps the deadliest 
and the most relentless of  all pests4  
,for it is one of the mysterious laws of
 ,creation that  every living           
thing--flower1 and tree1 and beast1 and 
man--has a pest  born unto it2 and unto 
these pests other pests are born1 until 
at  last1--when the thing is            
analyzed1--a pest is a pest only in so  
far as  its enemy1 and not its friends1 
judge it to be a pest4 ,if the world    
to-day were eliminated of human pests as
 each individual in the world  might    
judge for himself1 how many of us would 
be left alive to-morrow8    ,and always1
 when ,i have listened to the age-old   
arguments prompted by  man's egoism and 
self-glorification1 ,i love to return to
 the peace  and the comfort of nature1  
whether that nature be in the form of a 
deep forest1 a clover field1 an orchard1
 or the little back plot of a  crowded  
city home4 ,and if ,i am where there is 

no cool earth to stand my  feet upon1 ,i
 find my peace and rest in the printed  
pages which describe  that nature-world 
of mine4 ,from the most beautifully     
written volumes  to the honest pages and
 unembellished fact of farm-journals1 ,i
 have1  times without number1 found     
enthralling interest1 consolation1 and  
the  strength and courage of the cool   
and glorious earth itself4 ,nature's    
,bible is not hard to find4 ,it is      
everywhere1 living1 breathing1          
printed--the one universal and          
ever-present ,book of ,life4            
,whenever ,i think of the commonest of  
human arguments3 8,but this other  life 
you speak of has only instinct4 ,it     
cannot talk2 it cannot reason1  and     
therefore it is impossible for it to    
have a soul10 my mind always  travels   
back to a certain incident in my        
experience as a refutation4 ,i  could1  
had ,i the space1 answer that argument  
with a hundred compelling  facts2 ,i    
might answer it from the point of the   

flower1 the vine1 the  tree1 the grass  
that carpets the earth1 but ,i always   
think first of the  particular tragedy  
,i am going to describe1 because of the 
chief human  actor in it1 and because   
this actor was1 in my humble estimation1
 one  of the most physically perfect of 
her species4    ,i will not give her    
name4 ,she is the daughter of one of the
 best known  men in the nation1 and one 
of the foremost scientists of the world2
 and  should she happen to read these   
lines1 ,i hope that she will see1 with a
  new vision and a new understanding1   
that 8triumph0 of years ago4    ,i think
 she was about twenty when my outfit    
happened to join trails  with her       
father's in the far north4 ,she will    
remember that early  afternoon when we  
camped together close to the ,cochrane1 
in the  ,reindeer ,lake country4    ,i  
believe that ,i am quite reasonably sure
 of myself when ,i say that  she was the
 most beautiful woman ,i had seen up to 
that time or have  seen since4 ,it is   

simply because of her perfection that   
she has  always appealed as having      
furnished to me one of the most dramatic
  object-lessons of my experience4 ,she 
was athrill with life4 ,she  worshiped  
her father4 ,she loved the sun1 the sky1
 the wind1 the trees1  the whole world4 
,life seemed to have given her          
everything that it  possessed--the rare 
coloring of the most beautiful flower   
under her  feet1 a form that was divine1
 hair and eyes that no artist could     
paint1  and1 ,i think1 one of the       
sweetest voices ,i have ever heard4 ,she
 is1  ,i have heard1 beloved in her own 
environment4 ,she is a worker for  human
 betterment1 and spends much of her time
 in actual work with the  poor4 ,not    
long ago she was responsible for the    
building of a home for  unfortunate     
little children4    ,that day in camp   
there was a sudden excitement4 ,three of
 the ,indians  had driven a cow moose1 a
 yearling1 and a bull into a small      
cover4 ,it  was a splendid chance for   

the girl4 ,i can see her eyes glowing   
with  the fires of excitement now1 as   
she caught up her rifle and hurried     
with her father and brother and the     
,indians to the refuge-place of  the    
family of moose4 ,she was placed at the 
head of an open space1 and  the moose   
were driven out4 ,first came the        
yearling calf1 then the  mother1 and    
after them came the old bull4 ,the      
girl's lovely face1 as ,i  looked at it1
 was flushed4 ,it seemed as though ,i   
might hear the excited  beating of her  
heart as she waited1 quivering with the 
desire to kill4    ,she fired first at  
the calf1 and then at the mother--and   
from that  moment all that was big and  
beautiful and noble in life seemed to   
leave her own body and enter that of the
 old bull moose4 ,for the first  shot   
had struck the calf1 laming it so that  
it could run but slowly1  with the      
mother urging it on from behind4 ,not   
once in the moments that  followed did  
the mother run ahead of her calf4 ,and  

then ,i beheld a  thing that ,i believe 
to be as noble as anything that man has 
ever done  in all the ages4 ,believe1 if
 you will1 that the magnificent old bull
  had no reason4 ,believe1 if you cannot
 sacrifice your egoism1 that he  did not
 think4 ,do not give him the credit of  
possessing a heart or a  soul or        
feelings1 if that sacrifice of egoism   
hurts you4 ,but consider  what happened4
    ,the old bull ran alongside the cow1
 alongside the calf1 and then1 by       
reason or instinct1 he knew what had    
happened4 ,he did not forge  ahead4 ,he 
did not race for safety1 but            
deliberately he dropped behind1  turned 
himself broadside1 and stopped1 making  
of his own splendid body  a barrier in  
the path of the bullets4    ,i heard the
 girl's rifle cracking4 ,twice ,i saw   
the bull flinch1 and ,i  knew that he   
was struck4 ,then ,i heard her cry out1 
almost frantically1  that her last shot 
was gone4 ,in the same instant1 her     
brother ran up  from the cover and      

thrust his own rifle into her hands4    
8,give it to him1 sis60 he cried4 8,give
 it to him60    ,the big bull had       
turned4 ,he staggered a bit as he ran1  
but in a hundred  feet he had overtaken 
the cow and the calf4 ,the calf was     
going still  more slowly1 and in my     
desire to see the cow and the bull break
 away1 ,i  shouted4    ,almost          
simultaneously with the sound of my     
voice1 the bull stopped  again4 ,he     
placed himself broadside1 at perhaps a  
three-quarter angle1  so that1 by       
turning his head slightly1 he was       
looking back at us4 ,he  was directly   
between the cow and the calf1 and the   
girl's bullets  continued to rip into   
him4 ,i remember that ,i cried out in   
protest1 but  she did not sense my      
words4 ,every fiber of her being was    
strung to  the thrilling achievement of 
that crime4 ,she was deaf and blind to  
the  nobility of the great-hearted beast
 who1 in my eyes1 was deliberately      
sacrificing his life4 ,the flaming lust 

to kill had driven all other  things out
 of her heart and soul4 ,her father had 
run up1 and brother  and father cried   
out in triumph when the old bull sagged 
suddenly in  the middle and almost fell 
to his knees4 ,four times he had been   
struck  when again he went on4    ,from 
my experience in big-game hunting1 ,i   
knew that he was done for4  ,yet1 even  
in these moments when he was dying1 the 
glorious soul of him  was unafraid4     
,three hundred yards away he stopped and
 turned again1  giving the cow and the  
calf a last chance to reach the timber4 
,the  girl fired her last shots1 and    
missed4 ,then the bull swung after the  
cow and the calf and disappeared in the 
cover4 ,but1 as he went1 there  came    
back to us a terrible1 deep-chested     
cough1 and my heart gave up  its hope4  
,it told me the heroic old bull was shot
 through the lungs4  ,i did not hurry   
after the girl and her father and       
brother as they ran  over the           
blood-stained trail4 ,i continued to    

hear the coughing for a  few moments4   
,then it was silent4 ,when ,i came up to
 them1 just inside  the timber1 the     
three were standing in triumph close to 
the dead body  of the bull4 ,hardly more
 than twenty paces from it was the      
yearling  calf1 dying1 but not quite    
dead4 ,the brother had ended it with a  
revolver-shot4    ,and then ,i looked at
 the creature who had committed this    
double murder4  ,many times ,i had done 
this same crime1 but with me1 crude and 
rough1  with all the inborn savagery of 
man1 killing had not seemed quite so    
horrible4 ,and standing there1 a little 
later1--red-lipped1 her face  aflame1   
her eyes glowing1 exquisite in her      
beauty1--the girl had her  picture taken
 in triumph as she stood with one booted
 little foot on  the neck of her victim4
    ,when ,i hear of the vaunted human  
soul1 and when men and women tell me    
there is no soul but the soul of a      
human1 my mind goes back to that  day4  
,i might tell of a hundred other        

instances that are convincing unto      
myself1 but that one stands out with    
unforgettable vividness4    ,i am sure1 
for instance1 that the soul of a flower 
once saved my life4  ,this is not       
unusual1 or even remarkable1 for the    
souls of flowers  have saved unnumbered 
lives1 as well as giving cheer and      
courage to  countless millions2 and when
 we die it is still the ,soul of the    
,flower  that watches over us in our    
resting-places4 ,no place in the world  
do  flowers live more beautifully than  
in our gardens of the dead1 cheering  us
 when we come with our grief to the     
place of our lost ones1 giving  us      
courage to go on4 ,take the ,soul of the
 ,flower away from us1 and the  world   
would be hard and bleak to live in4     
,to me1 the soul is synonymous with     
life4 ,i do not disassociate the  two4  
,when we breathe our last1 our life--our
 soul--is gone4 ,the two1 ,i  believe1  
are one4 ,when we pluck a flower we     
destroy neither1 but when  we tear it up

 by the roots so that it dies1 then has 
its soul1 or its  life1 gone the same   
way as that of man who dies4 ,i have    
spent many  wonderful hours in those    
gardens of the dead which every city1   
hamlet1  and countryside must have4 ,to 
me1 there are only beauty and the glory 
of ,god in a cemetery4 ,it seems to me  
that there1 if never before1 one  must  
come to understand the brotherhood of   
all life4 ,it seems to me  that the very
 stillness and peace of a resting-place 
of the dead softly  whisper to us the   
great secret which those who are lying  
there have at  last discovered--that    
life is the same1 that its only         
difference is in  form and              
manifestation4 ,i seem to feel that ,i  
have come into the one  place where     
there are only charity and faith and    
good will1 and ,i have  always the      
thought--which to me gives courage and  
hope--that this is  why the flowers and 
the trees are so beautiful and so       
comforting there4  ,i have stood in     

other cemeteries which1 to the passing  
eye1 have been  barren and ugly1 where  
man has lent but very feebly a helping  
hand1 but  even there1 if ,i looked a   
little closer1 ,i have found the ,soul  
of the  ,flower1 the same peace1 the    
same tranquillity1 perhaps even greater 
courage to inspire one to 8keep on40    
,i have a case in point1 so convincing  
to myself that all the preaching  in the
 world could not change my sentiment in 
the matter4 ,i happened1  at this       
particular time1 to be traveling alone  
in the ,northland1 and  when a certain  
accident befell me1 the nearest help ,i 
knew of was at  a half-breed's cabin    
between twenty and thirty miles away4   
,thirty  miles is not a very great      
matter in a country of paved roads and  
level paths1 but it is a far distance in
 a country of dense forest  and swamp1  
without trails or guide-posts--and      
especially when one is  badly crippled4 
,like the most amateurish tenderfoot1 ,i
 took a chance  along the face of a     

cliff near a small waterfall1 slipped1  
fell1 and  came tumbling down a matter  
of thirty feet with a sixty-pound pack  
and  my rifle on top of me4 ,in the     
fall1 my foot received a terrific blow1 
probably on a projecting ledge of rock4 
,the man who has faced many situations  
is usually the man who is  cautious1 and
 though ,i had just committed an        
inexcusable error in my  carelessness1  
,i now lost no time in putting up my    
small silk tent while  ,i could still   
drag myself about4 ,it was well ,i did  
so4 ,for ten days  thereafter1 ,i was   
not able to rest a pound of weight upon 
my injured  foot4    ,with the music and
 refreshing coolness of the waterfall   
less than a  hundred feet from my tent  
door1 and the creek itself not more than
  a quarter of that distance1 ,i was    
most fortunately situated under  the    
circumstances4 ,the first morning after 
my fall found me almost  helpless4      
,every move ,i made gave me excruciating
 pain4 ,my entire foot  and ankle1 and  

my leg halfway to the knee1 were swollen
 to twice their  normal size4 ,this     
first day ,i dragged myself to a        
sapling1 cut it as ,i  lay on my side1  
and made me a rough crutch of it4 ,the  
second day1 my  entire lower limb was   
swollen until it had lost all semblance 
to form1  and was so badly discolored   
that a cold and terrible dread began to 
grow in me4 ,i had only thirty          
cartridges4 ,i fired ten that first day1
  in the futile hope that some wandering
 adventurer might have drifted  within  
the sound of my rifle4 ,occasionally ,i 
hallooed4 ,night of the  second day     
found me in the beginning of a fever1   
and1 at a cost of  physical agony1 ,i   
prepared myself for the worst--placed my
 possessions  within the reach of my    
hands1 and dragged myself up from the   
creek with  a small pail of water4    ,i
 shall never forget the dawn of the     
third day4 ,racked with pain1 with  the 
fever in my blood1 my leg now stiff as a
 board to the thigh1 ,i was  still not  

blind to the beauty of the morning4 ,the
 rising sun first  lighted up the       
waterfall1 then it fell in a warm and   
golden flood where  ,i had made my camp4
 ,in that silence1 broken only by the   
music of the  water1 every soft note    
that was made by the wild things came to
 me  distinctly4 ,it was a morning to   
put cheer and hope into the heart of a  
dying man4 ,then my eyes turned1 and1 a 
few feet beyond the reach of my  hand1  
,i found something looking at me4       
,yes2 to me1 in that moment1 it was a   
thing living and vibrant with  life1 and
 yet it was nothing more than a flower4 
,it grew on a stem a  foot high1 and the
 face of it made me think of one of our 
home-garden  pansies2 only1 the flower  
was all one color1 with longer petals--a
  soft1 velvety blue4 ,it seemed to have
 turned to face the morning sun1  and1  
in facing the sun1 it was squarely      
facing me--a piquant1 joyous1  laughing 
little face1 asking me as clearly as in 
words1 8,what can  possibly be the      

matter with you on this fine morning80  
,i am not going into the psychology or  
soul-language of that flower4 ,i  am not
 going to argue about it at all1 but    
simply tell what it did for  me4        
,perhaps1 if you want to lay it all to  
something1 you may say it was  because  
,i was out of my head a part of the time
 with fever4 ,but that  flower was my   
doctor through the days of torture and  
hopelessness that  followed4 ,now and   
then a bird sang near me2 occasionally a
 wild thing  would come and peer at me  
curiously1 then go its way4 ,but the    
flower  never left me1 and only turned  
its face partly away from me in the     
hours of its evening worship4 ,for its  
,god was the sun4 ,it faced the sun  in 
the morning1 wide-awake and open4 ,late 
in the afternoon1 it would  turn a      
little on its stem1 and with the setting
 of the sun1 its soft  petals would     
begin to close1 and it would go to      
sleep1 like a little  child1 with the   
coming of dusk4 ,day after day1 it grew 

nearer and more  of a beloved comrade to
 me4    ,after the fourth day1 it did   
not1 for an instant1 allow me to think  
that ,i was going to die4 ,never for an 
instant did it lose its cheer and       
confidence4 ,it was there to say        
8,hello60 to me every morning1 and there
  to say 8,good-night0 to me when the   
shadows grew deep--and all through  the 
day it talked to me1 and bobbed its     
little head in the whispers of  the     
breezes1 and ,i had the foolish         
sentiment1 at times1 that it was        
actually flirting with me4 ,i do not    
think ,i realized how precious it  had  
become to me until1 one day1 there came 
a terrific thunder-storm4  ,i thought   
the first blast of the wind and beat of 
rain were going to  destroy my comrade1 
and1 almost in a panic1 ,i dragged      
myself right and  left1 forgetful of    
pain1 until ,i had built a protection   
about my flower4    ,that was the sixth 
day1 and1 from that day1 the swelling   
and the pain  began to leave my limb4   

,on the tenth1 ,i could move about a    
little on my  feet4 ,on the fifteenth1  
,i was prepared to undertake my journey 
again4  ,i felt a real grief in leaving 
that solitary flower4 ,it had become  a 
part of me1 had encouraged me in my     
blackest hours1 had cheered  and        
comforted me even in the darkness of    
nights1 because ,i knew it  was         
there--my little comrade--waiting for   
the sun4 ,for me1 it had  individualized
 itself from among all the other flowers
 in the forest4  ,and now1 when ,i was  
about to go1 ,i saw that the flower     
itself had about  lived the span of its 
life2 in a very short time it would fade
 and die4  ,on the morning ,i left1 the 
petals were drooping1 and its tiny face 
did  not look up at the sun and at me as
 brightly as before1 and ,i fancied     
that ,i could hear its little voice     
saying1 8,please take me with you40     
,and ,i did4 ,call it foolish and       
trivial sentiment if you will1 but the  
flower and ,i went together1 and        

afterward ,i wrote a novel and called it
  8,flower of the ,north40    ,i have   
often heard strong men say1 8,oh1 that  
is merely a matter of  sentiment4 ,life 
is too hard and real for a thing like   
that40    ,i agree with them to an      
extent4 ,sentiment does not play a large
 part  in the world to-day4 ,for        
sentiment1 as that word is understood by
 the  millions1 is the heart and soul of
 all that is good and great4 ,without   
sentiment in the hearts of a man and a  
woman1 there cannot be the  fullness of 
real love between them1 even though the 
law has made them  man and wife4        
,without sentiment1 no good act is ever 
done from the  heart out4 ,without      
sentiment--a sentiment that warms the   
soul as a fire  warms a cold room--there
 will never be a deep and comforting    
faith4 ,i  have seen this 8co-operation 
of rational power and moral feeling0    
make  plain faces beautiful1 and ,i have
 seen the lack of it make others hard   
as rock4 ,selfishness1 egoism1 the      

desire to get everything possible out   
of life1 no matter at what expense to   
others1 is its antithesis4    ,as ,i    
write these last pages1 ,i have at hand 
facts which seem to show  that          
sentiment1 and therefore faith1 is as   
nearly dead as it has ever  been4 ,for  
science in all the great nations of the 
earth is planning and  plotting         
frantically for the extermination of    
their fellow men1 and  this1 in the hour
 when all the world is crying out for a 
faith1 is what  is being achieved3      
,deadly gases that will make gunpowder  
and the rifles anachronisms1 that  in   
the next war will depopulate whole      
regions1 men1 women1 and little         
children alike4    ,perfection of the   
lethal ray1 which will shrivel up and   
paralyze human  beings over vast areas1 
irrespective of whether they are        
combatants or  not4    ,development of  
plans for 8germ-warfare10 whereby whole 
nations will be  infected by plagues4   
,and then consider the words of one     

great military scientist of the         
,english-speaking race3 8,germ-warfare  
was tried on a small scale in the  late 
war1 and its results have been          
promising4 ,the method of its use  was  
in the poisoning of water supplies with 
cholera and typhus germs1  and the      
loosing of dogs inoculated with rabies  
and of women inoculated  with syphilis  
into the enemy country4 ,here apparently
 is a promising  beginning from which   
vast developments are to be hoped for40 
,a promising beginning--vast            
developments expected for the           
future--typhus--rabies--the commercial  
breeding of diseased women4    ,yes2 the
 world is crying aloud for a great      
faith1 even as it smashes  itself into  
moral fragments on the rocks of its own 
egoism and its own  selfishness4 ,but   
there has come a rent in its armor1 and 
as it commits  crimes and plans for     
still greater crimes1 it also begins to 
realize  its colossal wickedness4 ,and  
in its terror it shrieks aloud for a    

manifestation of the ,divine ,power4 ,it
 demands proof4    ,and again ,i say    
that the proof is so near that the world
 looks over  its head--and does not see 
it4 ,not until man's egoism crumbles    
will he  understand4 ,for ghosts will   
not come back from the dead to quiet his
  frenzies1 nor will angels descend from
 out of the heavens4 ,the ,divine       
,power is too great and all-encompassing
 for that4 ,god1 speaking of that       
,power as ,god1 is not a trickster4 ,he 
is not a mountebank4 ,he is not a       
lawyer arguing his case4 ,he is ,life4  
,and this ,life ,that ,never ,dies has  
no favorites4 ,such is my humble faith4 
99       99       99       99       99  
,a long time has passed since ,i wrote  
these pages4 ,all day the  countryside  
has lain in that sleepy1 golden shimmer 
that is the pulse  of ,indian summer4   
,the nights are touched with frost4     
,there is glory in  the warmth of the   
sun4    ,i am in a little valley that ,i
 love--,sleepy ,hollow1 ,i call it4     

,the farmhouse is old and unpainted1 and
 it has stood on its stone  foundation  
for almost a century4 ,the barn is      
sagging in the middle1  and between the 
barn and the house is an old well that a
 long-dead  grandfather rigged when the 
timber in the hollow knew the howl of   
wolves and the screech of bobcats4      
,crowding close up to the back of the   
old house is an orchard of apple and    
cherry trees1 so old they could  tell   
many an interesting story if they could 
talk4    ,and all about the sides and   
the front of the house are great        
trees--a  huge cottonwood1 and ancient  
oaks from which the ,indians may have   
shot  squirrels with their bows and     
arrows two hundred years ago4 ,the      
8woman  of the house0 has been in an    
invalid's chair for years1 and the      
husband  does little but care for her4  
,therefore ,life has crept up and almost
  inundated the place4 ,the grass grows 
high and uncut4 ,wild flowers bloom  in 
the yard4 ,quail come to feed with the  

chickens4 ,and beyond this1 all  about1 
is the whisper of corn fields in        
growing-time1 the ripples of  fields of 
wheat and oats and rye1 the music of the
 mowing-machine and  the lowing of      
cattle4 ,in this little old house of    
,sleepy ,hollow1 there  is a woman who  
has not walked for years1 and who will  
never walk again2  and there is a little
 man with a great fierce mustache who   
watches  her tenderly1 and who knows    
that he must go on watching her until   
the  end of her time--and yet in this   
house there is happiness1 and also  a   
great faith4 ,and nature seems to       
rejoice in that faith4 ,birds  build    
their nests under the porches4 ,there is
 melody in the trees4 ,at  night1       
crickets sing in the long grass under   
the open windows1 and the  whippoorwills
 come and perch on the roof under the   
old sycamore4    ,here are              
suffering--and peace2 few of the riches 
of man1 but an  unlimited wealth of     
contentment and faith4 ,these two1      

prisoned to the  end of their days1 have
 found what all the world is seeking4   
,the little  old house of the hollow1   
even with its tragedy1 is glad4 ,and    
life has  made it so1 the understanding 
of life1 the voice and living presence  
of  life as it whispers about me now in 
the golden sheen of ,indian summer4     
,and its whisper seems to be1 8,men are 
seeking me1 reaching out for me1  crying
 for me--yet they do not find me4 ,they 
are looking far1 and ,i am  very        
near--so far that they look over and    
beyond me when ,i am waiting  at their  
feet4 ,when at last they see me1 and    
understand1 then will they  have        
discovered the greatest of all          
treasures--,faith60           99        
99       99       99       99           
,transcriber's ,notes3    ,punctuation  
has been made consistent4    ,variations
 in spelling and hyphenation were       
retained as they appear in  the original
 publication4