The world is full of wonderful things which we cannot understand, Which men have never fully underst5ood, things of the mind and of the spirit. But of all these things which claim our interests and our attention none can be of more general interest to us, in the water, in the air, and on the land. No matter where we turn we find life and movement. Living things die, but life itself goes on. There is no living thing on this earth now that was alive two thousand years ago, except perhaps few great trees of which you may have seen pictures. What is the great difference between something which is alive, such as a dog or a child or a plant, and something which is not alive and has never lived? Movement is perhaps the most important thing in our world, and life itself is a special kind of movement. If we wish to begin to understand what is that makes a thing alive we cannot do better than study some simple and natural form of life, such as plant life. So wonderful is the life of the most simple little plant that after a thousand and more years of effort, an, with all his knowledge and with all the help which the modern world can offer, has as yet failed to do the least of the things which the plant can do naturally, without thought and without effort. The name of this great writer is generally known as that of a "nature writer", but to those who love literature it means that and something very much more. Not only was he the writer of one of the best of books for boys ever written, but also he gave us that wonderful little volume The Story of My Heart, a book different from any other in our language. His early years were spent on a farm. he was not active, and was thought by many of those around him to be half mad. He secured a job, however, on local newspaper and at the same time wrote several books which were published at his own himself when he least expected it by writing a long letter to an important attention to him as a writer who knew his subject, and further articles were asked for an written.