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THE NATURAL HISTORY OF THE FARM.
 The Natural History
of the Farm

A Guide to the Practical Study of the Sources

of Our Living in Wild Nature.

By JAMES G. NEEDHAM
PROFESSOR OF LDl:-lOLOGY, GENERAL BIOLOGY AND :-IATURE STUDY

DI CORKELL UNIVERSITY.

ITHACA, N.
Y.
THE COMSTOCK PUBLISHI:-.iG COMPANY
1916
 CYBELE
Spirit of th' raw and gravid earth
Whenceforth all things have breed and birth,
From palaces and cities great
From pomp and pageantry and state
Back I come with empty hands
Back unto yo ur naked lands.
-L. H. BAILEY.

COPYRIGHT. 19 I 4
BY THE
COMSTOCK PUBLISHING COMPANY

PRESS OF W. F. HUMPHREY, GENEVA, N. Y.

Open access edition funded by the National Endowment for the
Humanities/Andrew W. Mellon Foundation Humanities Open Book
Program.

Copyright © 1916 by Comstock Publishing Company

First paperback printing 2019

The text of this book is licensed under a Creative Commons

Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International
License: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/.
To use this book, or parts of this book, in any way not covered by
the license, please contact Cornell University Press, Sage House,
512 East State Street, Ithaca, New York 14850. Visit our website at
cornellpress.cornell.edu.

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN 978-1-5017-4076-3 (pbk.: alk. paper)

ISBN 978-1-5017-4077-0 (pdf)
ISBN 978-1-5017-4078-7 (epub/mobi)

Librarians: A CIP catalog record for this book is available from the
Library of Congress
 PREFACE.

This is a book on the sources of agriculture. Some there

may be who, deeply immersed in the technicalities of modem
agricultural theory and practice, have forgotten what the
sources are; but they are very plain. Food and shelter and
clothing are obtained now, in the main, as in the days of the
patriarchs . Few materials of livelihood have been either
added or eliminated. The same great groups of animals
furnish us flesh and milk and wool; the same plant groups
furnish us cereals, fruits and roots, cordage and fibres and
staves. The beasts browsed and bred and played, the
plants sprang up and flowered and fruited, then as now. We
have destroyed many to make room for a chosen few. We
have selected the best of these, and by tillage and care of them
we have enlarged their product and greatly increased our
sustenance, but we have not changed the nature or the
sources of it. To see, as well as we may, what these things
were like as they came to us from the hand of nature is the
chief object of this course.
A series of studies for the entire year is offered in the
following pages. Each deals with a different phase of the
life of the farm. In order to make each one pedagogically
practical, a definite program of work is outlined. In order
to insure that the student shall have something to show for
his time, a definite form of record is suggested for each
practical exercise. In order to encourage spontaneity, a
number of individual exercises are included which the student
may pursue independently. The studies here offered are
those that have proved most useful, or that are most typical,
or that best illustrate field-work methods. There may be
enough work in some of them for more than a single field trip:
6 HISTORY OF FARM

many of them will bear repetition with new materials, or in

new situations. Each one includes a brief intro duc tory
statement to be re a d and an outline of ,york to be p erforme d
, .

In all of them, it is the doing of the work outlined�not the

mere reading of the text�that will yield satisfactory e due a ­

b onal results.
The work of this course is not nel". Much work of this
sort has been done, and well done , as nature-study, in various
institutions at home and abroad. But here is an attempt to
integrate it all, and to show i t s relation to the source s of our
living. So it is the natural history, not of the whole range of
things curious and inter e sting in the world, but of those things
that h uman kind has elected to deal with as a means of liveli­
ho o d and of p ers onal satisfaction in all ages.
These are the things we have to live with: they are the
things we have to live by . They fecd us and shelter us and
clothe us and warm us. They e quip us with implements for
mani fol d tasks .
They endow us wi th a thousand delicacies
and wholcsome comforts Th ey unfold before us thc cease­
.

less drama of the ever-changing seasons�the infon11ing

drama of life, of whi c h \ye are a part. And when, in our rude
farming operations, w e scar the face of nature to make fields
and houses and stock pens, th e y offer us the means whereby,
though c h ange d, to m ake it green an d golden again�a fit
enviro nme nt wherein to dwe ll at peace .
In the belief that an acquaintance with these things would
contribute to gre ater contentment in and enj oyment of the
farm surroundi ngs and to a b e t ter rural life, thi s course was
prepared. The o riginal suggestio n of it came from Director
L. H. Baile y of the New York State College of Agri cul ture.
It w as first gi ven in that c oll e ge by me in cooperation with
Mrs. J. H. Comstock. To both these good naturalists, and
to a l l thus:, who have helred me as a s s i st ant s I am greatly
,

indebted for valuable suggestions.

j.\i\lES G. NEEDHAM.
 CONTENTS

���:�: t; : :
p e
: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : �p �
PART 1. STUDIES FOR THE FALL TERM:

October-January
I. Mo ther Earth .................page 9 with Study 1 on page IS
2. 2 ..
22
. ..
The wild fruits of the farm ....... . 16 "
3. The wild nuts of the farm ........ 24 3 30
The farm stream ............... 32 42
The fishes of the farm s t ream ..... " 46
4. 4
5. 5 48
6. " . . . .. . .
"
Pasture plants ..... . .. . 52 6 56
7 62
"
7· The wild roots of the farm ....... 58
8. The No vemb er seed-crop 66 8 70
9. The deciduous trees in winter . . .. 71 9 76
10. 10 79
"
The farm wood lot . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 77
II. The fuel woods of the farm . ...... 81 II 86
1 2. 90 92
"
Winter verdure of the farm .. .. .. 12
13· The wild mammals of the farm . . . 96 13 100
14· The domesticated mammals ..... 105 14 I II
IS· The fowls of the farm . . .. . . . . . .. II3 IS 119
16. Farm landscapes _ . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121 16 124

Individual exercises for the Fall Term (Optionais)

I. A student's record of farm operations . ......... . . . page 126
2. Noteworthy views of the farm. .. . . . ........ . . . .. " 128
3. Noteworthy trees of thefarm ................... 128
4. Autumnal coloration and leaf fall ... . . ........... 132
'i. A calendar of seed dispersal. . ..... . ............. 133

PART II. STUDIES FOR THE SPRING TERM:

February-May.
17. The lay of the land.... . .... . .. page 137, with stud y
.. "
17 on page 14 1
18. The deciduous shrubs of the farm 143 " " 18 14 7
1 9 . Winter activities of wild animals . .
"
ISO
" " 19 IS4
20. Fiber products of the farm ...... " 155 20 162
21. Aco ating of ice ................ " 164 21 166
22. Maple sap and sugar ........... " 168 22 1 72
23. Nature's soil co n serving o peratio ns " 175 23 179
24. The passing of the trees ......... " 1 80 24 148
25. The fence row ................. " 186 25 190
26. A spring brook . . . . . . ... . . ... . .. " 191 26 193
8 NATURAL HISTORY OF THE FARM

�7. Nature's offeringsfor spring plan ting p. 195 with study 27 0n page 202
28. A cut-over wood-land thicket .... "205 " " 28 " 207
29. Wild spring flowers of the farm .. . "208 29 212
30. What goes on in the apple blossoms "213 30 " 216
31. The song birds of the farm ...... " 2 19 31 221
32. T he early summer landscape .... "223 32 226

Individual Exercises for the Spring Term (Optionals)

6. A cal end:tr of bird return .......................page 228
7. A calendar of spring growth. . . . ............. . ... " 229
8. A calendar of spring flowers ..................... 229
9. Noteworthy wild flower beds of the fa nn . .. ..... . . 230
10. Noteworthy flowering shrubs of the farm . ... . .... 230

PART III. STUDIES FOR THE SUMMER TERM:

June--October.
33. The progress of the season ....page 233. with Study 33 on page 236
34· Theclovers ................... " 237 " " 34 " 241
35. Wild aromatic herbs of the farm . . " 243 . 35 250
36. The trees in summer . . . . . ..... . . "252 36 254
.
37. Weeds of the field . . ... . . . . . . " 257. . 37 263
38. Summer wild flowers ............ "264
3 9 . Some insects at work on farm crops " 268
38
39
"
267
272
40. Insects molesting farm animals . . "274 40 279
41. Out in the rain ................ "281 41
u
283
42. The vines of the farm . ... ... . "285 .. ..
42 290
43. The swale . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . lC 29I " 43 295
44. The brambles of the fann . . . .. .. . 4t 29 6 " 44 300
45. The population of an old apple tree" 302 45 306
!
46. Th� litt e brook gone dry ........ 307 :: 46 ::
3II
47· SWlmmmg holes .. ... ... . . . ... 312 . 47 315
48. Winding roads . . . . . ...... . . . . . "316 . 48 319

Individual Exercises for the Summer Term (Optionals)

I I.A grass calendar ........... ...................page 321
12. A calendar of summer wild flowers,. . . . . . . . . . . . " .. . 322
13. A calendar of bird nesting ... . . . ... . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2
3 3
14. Best crops of the farm ..................... .... 324
IS· A corn record. ...............................
. 325

Outdoor Equipment ....................................page 326

Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 333
 1. :VIOTHER EARTH

"Brother,listen to what we say. There was a time when our forefathers

mlJned this great land. Their seats extended from the rising to the setting
sun. The Great Spirit had made it for the use of the Indians. He hrLd
created the buffalo and the deer and other animals for food. He had made
the bear and the belVer. Their skins served us for clothing. He had
scattered them over the country and had taught us how to take them. He
had c'fused the earth to produce corn for bread. All this he had done for
his red children because he loved them."
-F-om the great Onttion of "Red Jacket," the Seneca Indian, on
the White Man and the Red.
The Religion oj

If you ever read the letters of the pioneers who first settled
in your lo cali ty when it was all a wilderness (and how recent
was the time!) , you will find them filled with discussion of the
possibilities of getting a living and establishing a home there.
Were there springs of good water there? Was there native
pasturage for the animals? Was there fruit? 'Vas there
fish? 'Vas there game? Was there timber of good quality
for building? Was the soi l fertile? Was the climate health­
ful? Was the outlook good? Has it ever occurred to you
how, i n absence of real-estate and immigration agencies, they
found out about all these things?
They sought this information at i ts source. They followed
up the streams. They fo raged : they fished: they hunted.
They measured the boles of the trees with eyes experienced in
woodcraft. They judged of what nature would do with their
sowi ngs by what they saw her doing wi th her own native
crops. And ha,ring found a sheltered place with a pleasant
outlook and with springs and grass and forage near at hand,
they bui lt a dwelling and p lanted a garden Thus, a new era
.

of agriculture was u she red in.

Your an cestors were white men who came from another
continent and brought with them tools and products and
traditions of another civilization. Thei r tools, though
simple, were efficient. Their axes and spades and needles
9
10 NATURAL HISTORY OF THE FARM

and shears were of steel. Their chief dependence for food

was placed in cereals and vegetables whose seeds they brought
with them from across the seas. Their social habits were
those of a people that had long known the arts of tillage and
husbandry: their civilization was based on settled homes.
But they brought with them into the wilderness only a few
weapons, a few tools , a few seeds and a few animals, and for
the balance and continuance of their living they relied upon
the bounty of the woods, the waters and the soil .
A little earlier there lived in your locality a race of red men
whose cruder tools and weapons were n'.ade of flint , of bone
and of copper; who planted native seeds (amo ng them the
maize, the squash, and the potato) , and whose tr�ditions were
mainly of war and of the chase. These were indeed children
of nature, dependent upon their own hands for obtaining from
mother earth all their sustenance . Thcre was little division
of labor among them. Each must know (at least, each family
must know) how to gather and how to prepare as well as how
to use.
Today you live largely on the products of the labors of
others. You get your food, not with sickle and flail and
spear, but with a can-opener, and you eat it without even an
inkling of where it grew. So many hands have intervened
between the getting and the using of all things needful, that
some factory is thought of as the source of them iastead of
mother earth. Suppose that in order to realize how you have
lost connection, you step out into the wildwood empty­
handed, and look about you. Choose and say what you will
have of all you see before you for your next meal? \Vhere
will you find your next suit of clothes and what will it be like?
Ah, could you even improvise a wrapping, and a string with
which to tie it, from what wild nature offers you?
These are degenerate days . One had to know things in
order to live in the days of the pioneer and the Indian. B ut
 110THER EARTH II

now one may live without knowing anything useful, if he only

possess a few coins of the realm and have access to a depart­
ment store.
"Back to nature" has therefore become the popular cry,
and vacations are de\'oted to camping out, and to "foraging
off to the country" as a mC:lns of restoration. But for­
tunately it is not neeessary to go to the mountains or to the
frontier in order to get back to nature; for nature is eyer with
us at home. She raises our crops with her sunshine and soil
and air and rain, and turns not aside the while from raising
her own. \'Vhile we are engrossed with "developing" our
clearings and are planting farms and cities and shops, she
goes on serenely raising her ancient products in the bits of
land left O\-er: in swamp and bog, in gulch and dune, on the
rocky hillside, by the stream and in the fence row. There
she plants and tends her cereals and fruits and roots, and
there she fecds her flocke;. \Vherever we leave her an opening,
she slips in a fcw seecls of her own choosing, and when we
abandon a field, she quickly populates it again with wild
things. They begin ag'ain the same old lusty struggle for
place and food, and of our feeble and transient interference,
soon there is hardly a sign.
As for the wild things, thereforc,-the things that so largely
made up the enyironment of the pioneer and the red man­
we need but step out to the border.:; of our clearing tofmd most
of them. If anyone \Fmld share in the experience of prime­
val times, he must \york at these things with his own hands.
To gain an acquaintance he must apply first his senses and
then his ,vits. He must test them to find out \vhat they are
good for, and try them to find out w:1at they are like: he
must sense the qualities that have made them factors in the
struggle for a world of life. Thus, one may get
place in the
back to luturc. Thus one may re-acquire some of that
,

ancient fund of real knowledge that was onee necessary to

12 NATURAL HISTORY O F THE FARM

out race, and that is still fundamental to a

good education, and that contributes largely
to one's enjoyment of his own environment.
The best place to begin is near home. Any
large farm will furnish opportunities. It is
the object of the lessons that follow to
help you find the wild things of the farm
that are most nearly related to your perma­
nent interests, and to get on speaking terms
with them. You will be helped by these
studies in proportion as your own eyes see
and your own hands handle these wild
things. The records you make will be of
value to you only as you write into them
your own experience: write nothing else.

Suggestions to students: The regular field

work contemplated in this course makes
certain demands with which indoor labora­
tory students may be unfamiliar. A few
suggestions may therefore be helpful:
I. As to weather: All weather is good
weather to a naturalist. It is all on nature's
program. Each kind has its use in her
eternal processes, and each kind brings its
f\J
own peculiar opportunities for learning
her ways. Nothing is more futile than
complaint of the weather, for it is ever with
us. It were far better, therefore, to enter
into the spirit of it, to make the most of it
and to enjoy it.
2. As to clothes: Wear such as are
strong, plain and comfortable. There are
thorns in nature's garden that will tear thin
stuffs and reach out after anything detach­
able; and there are burs, that will cling
II>
persistently to loose-woven fabrics. Kid X
...

u
gloves in cold weather and high heels at all !

FIG. 1. Metric and

English linear measure.
 MOTHER EARTH 13

times are an utter abomination. Clothing suited to the

weather will have very much to do with your enjoyment of it
and with the efficiency of your work.
3. As to tools: A pocket lens and a pocket knife you
should own, and have always with you. A rule for linear
measurements is printed herewith (fig. I). Farm tools, fur­
nished for common use, will supply all other needs.
4. As to the use of the
blanks provided: B I a n k s ,

such as appear in the studies

outlined on subseque nt pages,
a re provided for use in this

course. Take rough copies of

them with you for use in the
field, where writing and sketch­
ing in a notebook held in one's
hand is difficult; then make
permanent copies at home.
When out in the rain, write
with soft pencil and not with
ink.
5. As to poison ivy (fig. 2):
Unless you are immune, look
out for it: a vine climbing by
aerial roots on trees and fences,
or creeping over the ground.
Its comp ound leaves resemble FIG. 2. Poison Ivy.
those of the woodbine, b ut
there are five leaflets in the woodbine, and but three in
poison ivy. Lead acetate (sugar of lead) is a spec ific antidote
for the poison; a satur ated solution in 50% alcohol should
be kept available in the laboratory. It is rubbed on the
affected parts-not taken internally, for it also is a poison .
If used as soon as infection is discoverable, little injury
results to the skin of even those most sensitive to ivy poison.
After lesions of the skin have occurred, through neglect to
use it prompt ly, it is an unsafe and ineffective remedy; a
physician should then be consult ed .

6. As to pockets: Some people don't have any. But

cont ain ers of some sort for the lesser things, such as twigs and
14 NATURAL HISTORY OF THE FARM

3eeds, studied in the field, will be very desirable. You will

want to take another look at them after you get back; so
prepare to take them home, where you can sit at a table and
work with them. A bag or a basket will hold, besides tools, a
lot of stout envelopes, for keeping things apart, with labels
and necessary data written on the outside.
7. As to reference books: "Study nature, not books",
said the great naturalist and teacher, Louis Agassiz. By all
means, get the answers to the questions involved in your
records of these studies direct from nature and notfrom books.
But while you are in the field, you will meet with many things
about which you will wish to know. Ask your instructors
freely. Get acquainted, also, with some of the standard
reference books, which will help you when instructors fail.
Only a few of the more generally useful can be mentioned
here.
There are three classical manuals for use in the e aste rn
United States and Canada, that have helped the naturalists
of several generations. These are Gray's :Manual of Botany,
Jordan's Manual of the Vertebrates and Comstock's Manual
for the Study of Insects. There are two great cyclopedias,
both edited by Professor L. H. Bailey-The American
Cyclopedias of Horticulture and of Agriculture. There are
many books of nature-study, but most useful of them all is
Mrs. Comstock's Handbook of Nature-Study. The best
single bird book is Chapman's Handbook of Korth American
Birds. A new book that will hclp toward acquaintance
with aquatic plants and animals is Needham and Lloyd's
Life of Inland Waters. All these should be accessible on
reference shelves.
NOTE-At Cornell University the field tool that is fur­
nished to classes for individual use is a sharp brick-layer's
hammer weighing about a pound. It is not heavy enough
to be burdensome, and it is adaptable to a great variety of
uses, such as digging roots, cracking nuts, stripping bark,
splitting and splintering kindling, planting seedlings, etc. A
light hatchet will serve many, but not all of these uses.
 MOTHER EARTH 15

Study 1. A General Survey of the Farm

The program of this study should consist of a trip over the
farm with a good map in hand, showing the streams, the
roads, the buildings and the outlines of all the fields and
woods.

The record. The student should record directly on this

map, the sort and condition of crops found in all the fields and
the character of all the larger areas not used as fields. He
should put down the names of all prominent topographic
features, hills, streams, glens, etc., that bear names. The
amount of additional data to be required-dwellings and their
inhabitants, barns and their uses, etc.-will be determined
by the area to be covered and the time available. If crops
are few, colors may be used to make their distribution more
graphic. If inhabitants are to be recorded, the dwellings
may be numbered upon the map and the names of their
occupants written down in a correspondingly numbered list.
The object is a preliminary survey of the whole area that is to
be subsequently examined in detail.
 II. THE WILD FRUITS OF THE FARM
"The mandrakes give a slIlell, and at our gates are all manner of pleasant
fruits, new and old, whidl I il(l1'e laid up for thee, 0 my beloved."
-The Song of Solon1on, 7:13.

The bounty of nature is never more fully appreciated than

when we see a tree bearing a load of luscious fruit. A tree
that has been green, like its fellows , suddenly bursts into a
glow of color, and begins to exhale a new and pleasant fra­
grance as its product ripens . The bending boughs disclose
the richness and abundance of its gift to us.
Among nature's delicacies there are none so generally
agreeable and refreshing as her fruits. They possess an
infinite variety of flavors. B efore the days of sugar-making,
they were the chief store of sweets. They everywhere fulfill
an important dietary function, both for man and for many of
his animal associates.
All fruits were once wild fruits. Most of them exist today
quite as they came to us from the hand of nature. A fewhave
been considerably improved by selection and care . But none
of them has been altered in its habits. They grow and bloom
and bear and die as they did in the wildwood.
They have their seasons, the same seasons that the market
observes. First come the strawberries, breaking the fast of
winter 's long barrenness . \Vhat wonder that our Iroquois
Indians celebrated the ripening of the fragrant wild straw­
berries by a great annual festival! Then come the currants
and the raspberries and the cherries and the buffalo-berries
and the mulberries and the plums and many others in a long
succession, the season ending ,'V'ith the grapes, the apples, the
cranberries and the persimmons.
The wild fruits have their requirements also as to climate,
soil , moisture, etc., and these we must observe if wc cultiyate
16
 WILD FRUITS OF FARM 17

them. Cranberries and some blueberries demand bog con­

ditions which strawberries and apples v'lill not endure.
The wild fruits in a state of nature, have their enemies also,
which are ever with them when cultivated. The fruit-fly of
the cherry, the codling moth of the apple, the plum-curculio
and all the other insect pests of the fruit garden, have merely
moved into the garden from the wildwood. And they
flourish equally in the wildwood still. When, for example ,
an orchardist has rid his trees o f codling moths, a fresh stock
soon arrives from the unnoticed wild apples of the adjacent
woods, and infests his trees again.
So, we must go back to nature to find the sources of our
benefits and of their attendant ills.
The wild fruits of the farm all grow in out-of-the way places
that escape the plow. They grow in the fence-row, by the
brookside, on the stony slope. If in the forest, they grow
only in the openings or in the edges; for fruit trees do not
grow so tall as the trees of the forest cover, and cannot endure
much shading. The bush fruits especially are wont to spring
up in the fence-row, where birds have perched and have
dropped seeds from ripe fruit they have eaten. They are a
lusty lot of berry-bearing shrubs and vines that tend to form
thickets, and when cut down by the tidy farmer, they spring
up again with cheerful promptness from uninjured roots. In
a few years they are in bearing again. The neglected fence­
row is, therefore, one of the best places to search for the lesser
wild fruits.
Of nature's fruits there is endless variety. They grow on
tree, shrub, herb and vine. They are large and small, sweet
and sour, pleasant and bitter, wholesome and poisonous.
They mellow in the sun like apples, or sweeten with the frosts
like persimmons. They hang exposed like plums, or are
hidden in husks like ground-cherries. The edible ones that
remain growing wild in the autumn are a rather poor lot of
18 NATURAL H ISTORY OF THE FARM

small and seedy kinds, that ha\�e been hardy enough to hold
their own, in spite of mowing and grazing and clearing.
They compare poorly with the selected and cultivated prod­
ucts of the fruit farm. Yet many of them once served our
ancestors for food. Collectively they were the sole fruit
supply of the aboriginal inhabitants of our country. The
Indians ate them raw, stewed them, made jam, and even
jellies. They dried the wild strawberries, blueberries, rasp­
berries and blackberries, and kept them for winter use. They
expressed the juice of the elderberry for a beverage : indeed,
the black-berried elder they used in many ways ; it was one
of their favorite fruits. And even
as the crows eat sumach berries
in the winter when better fruits
are scarce, so the Indians boiled
them to make a winter beverage.
The cultivated fruits are but a

3.
few of those that nature has offered
FIG. The Wild Gooseberry.
US. We have chosen these few on
account of their size, their quality, and their productive­
ness. IVe demand them in quantity, hence they must either
be large or else be easily gathered. Some, like the June­
berry, are sweet and palatable, but too small and scattered
and hard to pick. The wild gooseberry is a rich and luscious
fruit, but needs shearing before it can be handled. The
quantitative demands of our appetite, the qualitative de­
mands of our palate and the mechanical limitations of our
fingers have restricted us to a few, and having learned how to
successfully manage these few, we have neglected all the
others for them.
Our management has consisted, in the main, of propagating
from the best varieties that nature offered, and giving culture.
Any of the wild fruits would probably yield improved varie­
ties under like treatment. All the wild fruits show natural
 WILD FRUITS OF FARM 19

varieties, the best of which offer proper

materials for selection.
Wild fruits, like the cultivated, fall chiefly
in three categories: core fruits (pomes),
stone fruits (drupes), and berries. The
structural differences between pome and
drupe are indicated in the accompanying
diagram. The apple is the typical core
fruit (pomus=apple; whence, pomology).
The seeds are contained in five hardened
capsules (ripened carpels) , together forming
the core, surrounded by the pulp or flesh of
the apple, which is mostly developed from b

FIG. Diagrams of
the base of the calyx . The calyx lobes
4.
Persist at the apex of the apple, closed pome fruit. (a) . and
stone fruit . (b).
together above the withered stamens and
style tips. The plum is a typical stone fruit: the single
seed is enclosed in a stony covering that occupies the
center of the fruit and is surrounded by the pulp . The
term berry is uscd to cover a number of structural types
which agree in little else than that they are small fruits with
a number of scattered seeds embedded in the pulp .
If, with the coming of improved varieties of cultivated
fruits, the wild ones have ceased to be of much importance in
our diet, they still are of importance to us as food for our
servants, the birds. The birds like them . Nothing will do
more to attract and retaii1 a good population of useful birds,
than a plentiful supply of wild
fruits through the summer
season. Who that has seen
orioles pecking wild straw­
berries or robins gonnandizing
on buffalo-berries or waxwings
FIG. .J.
Wild chokecherry (Pn",,, s sp?)
and nannyberry (Viburnum lentago). stripping a mountain ash, can
20

EDIBLE WILD FR UITR

--------- 1
NAME Kind of Plant' Type of Fruit' No. Cluster of Fruit3 Size4
Seeds

1. Crab Apple

2. Hawthorn

3. Mountain Ash

4. Wild Cherry

5. Chokechcrry

6. Nannyberry

7. Spicebush

8. Hackberry

9. \Vild Grape

10. Elderberry

11. Barberry

12. Yewberry

13.

14.
'Tree, shrub, vine, etc. 2Pome, drupe, berry, etc. -Diagram.
•Dimensions in millimeters.
 21

OF THE FARM
.-
Proportion of Animals i
Remarks
i
Used for What" Taste
Pulp eating it6

i
,
,

I I 1

I I 2

10

11

12

13

14
----------
'Leave blank unless you have personal knowledge.
'Specify whether foraging on it or living within it.
22 NATURAL HISTORY OF THE FARM

doubt it? Their tastes have a wider range than ours. Wax­
wings like cedar berries, and crows eat freely the fruit of
poison ivy. The close-growing habit of wild bush fruits
gives congeni al shelter and ne sting sites, also, to many of
the smaller birds.
From all the foregoing it should appear that a little s tudy
of the natural history of the wild fruits in any locality will
reveal much concerning the origin and the environing condi­
tions of one of our valuable resources.

Study 2. Edible Wild Fruits

Program-The first part of this
study iscomparative examination
a
of the wild fruits
of the farm. The
��4) fruits are to be sought in nature, ex­

�
"i:'i"'.�. /;
amined carefully one at a time, and
their characters are to be written in
the columns of a table prep a red with
; ": : f :" ;',.: !; :. headings as indicated in p p . 20 and
2 I. The fruits named in the first
FIG. 6. The larvae of three
common fruit insects: (a) the column are those commonly found
plum-curculio; (b) the codling about Ithaca, N. Y., i n autumn.
moth; (c) the cherry fruit-fly.
Earlier in the season, or in another
region, the list would be very different.
The second part of this study is a comparison of individuals
of one kind of wild fruit, such as hawthorns, wild grape, or any
other that is abundant, with a view to discovering natural
varieties. Half a dozen or more selected trees, b eari ng
number-labels, I, 2, 3, etc. , should have their fruits carefully
compared as to ( 1 ) quality o f flesh (as tested by p alatability
at this date) ; (2) proportion of edible pulp (as compared
with seeds, skin and other waste); (3) earliness; (4) size and
form; (5) productiveness ; (6) immunity from fungus and
insects , as evidenced by the cleanness of the fruit inside and
 WILD FRUITS OF FARM 23

outside. (Immunity from birds and mammals is not desi re d ,

since these are attracted by the qt�alities we like). These
qu ali ties may be set down as column headings to a tabl e , the
first col umn being reserved for tree numbers, an d then it will
suffice if the order of excellence be written in each column in
numerals. For example, in the column for palatability, if
tree N o . 3 be the best flavored, w rite I in l ine 3 in that
column; if tree NO. 4 be the worst flavored (of 6 t rees ), write 6
in line 4 of that column. Arrange the others likewise accord­
ing to your judgment of their flavor.
The record of this study will consist of the two tables com­
pleted, so far as data are available.
 III. THE NUTS OF THE FARM
"The auld guidwife's weel-hoordet nits
A re round an' round divided."
-Robert Burns (Hal/ow-c'cn).

Nature pu ts up some of her products in neat packages for

ke e p ingAmong the choicest of them, preserved in the
.

neatest and most sanitary of containers, are the nuts. Richin

proteins and fats, finely flavored, and with a soft appetizing
fragr anc e , these strongly appeal to the palate of man and
many of his animal associates. Squirrels and other rodents
and a few birds gather and store them for winter use . In
pioneer days hogs were fattened on them. It w as a simple
process: the hogs roamed the woods and fed on the nuts
where they fell. And it is credibly claimed that bacon of
surpassing flavor was obtained from nut f ed hogs - . In earlier
days the Indian, who had no butter, found an excellent sub­
hi cko ries He c rushe d the nuts
stitute for it in the oil of the .

with a st one and t hen boiled them in a kettle of water. The

Shells sank to the bottom; the oil floated, and was skimmed
from the surface.
Most nuts matu r e in autumn. A he avy early frost, and ,

then a high wind, and then-it is time to go nutt ing ; for so

choi ce a stock of food, clattering down out of the tree-tops
ont o the lap of earth, will not lie long unclaimed. It is real
trees that most nuts grow on-not underl ings , like fruit trees,
but the gr eat trees of the fo res t cover; trees that are of value,
also, for th e fi ne quality of their woods. They a re lo ng lived -

and slow m a turing. So, in our farming, we have neglected

-

them for quicke r growing crops.

-

Practically all the nuts fo und growing about us are wil d

nuts , that pe rsist in sp ite of us rather than with our care.
Here and there a valued chestnut or walnut tre e is allowed to
24
 NUTS OF THE FARM

FIG. 7. The pig-nut hickory (Hickoria glabra); the whole nut, a cross section of
same, and the nut in its hulls (after Mayo).
occupy space in the corner of the barnyard or in the fencerow,
and there, relieved of competition, shows what it can do in the
way of producing large and regular crops. But the nuts are
wild. There has been but little selection for improved varie­
ties and little scientific culture of nut-bearing trees. When
we consider the abundance and value of their product, the
permanence of their occupation of the ground, the slight cost
in labor of their maintenance, and the conservation of the soil
which they promote, this neglect of nut crops among us seems
unfortunate.
Two families of plants furnish most of our
valuable nuts : the hickory family and the
oak family. The former includes the more
valuable kinds of nuts ; besides true hickories,
these are pecans, butter-nuts and walnuts.
In all these there is a bony shell, enclosing
the four-lobed and wrinkled edible seed.
The oak family includes besides the acorns
(few of which are valuable as human food)
the chestnuts, the filberts, the hazels and the
beech nuts. In these there is a horny shell
FIG. 8. Cross sec­ enclosing the smooth but compact seed.
tions of two types of
nuts in their hulls: (a)
walnut with non-split­ Certain other members of the oak family, as
ting hull; (b) hickory the hornbeams, produce nuts that are too
nut with four-valved
bull. small to be worthy of our consideration as
 NATURAL HISTORY OF THE FARM

FIG. 9. The hazel nut (Corylus americanus); nuts in the hull,

and a kernel in the half-shell (after Mayo).
food. A few stray members of other families produce
edible nuts. Those of the linden are very well flavored,
although minute. Those of the wild lotus of the swamps are
very palatable and were regularly gathered by the Indians
for food. They resemble small acorns in size and shape.
Then there are nuts of large size and promising appearance
that are wholly inedible. Such are the horse-chestnut and
the buckeye, which contain a bitter and narcotic principle .
Certain nuts of large size and fine quality, like the king
hickory, have not found much popular favor, because their
shells are thick and close-fitting. They are hard to crack and
the kernels are freed with much difficulty. Such selection as
has been practiced with Persian walnuts and pecans is in the
direction of thin, loose-fitting shells.
Nuts are unusually well protected dur­
ing development by hard shells and thick
hulls of acrid flavor ; yet they have not
escaped enemies. Wormy nuts are fre­
quent. The most important of t h e
"worms" living inside the hulls and feed­
ing on the kernels are the larvre of the
Fig. 10. Leaf outline nut-weevils. These are snout-beetles
and nutlets of the linden. that live exclusively upon nuts and are
 NUTS OF THE FARM 27

very finely adapted for such a life. The snout or rostrum

ofthe beetle is excessively elongated, especially in the female

o
o
fl f

FIG. 11. The chestnut-weevil (Balaninus pToboscideus):

a, adult; b, same, from side-female; c, head of male, with
its shorter beak; d, eggs; e, larva; f and g, pupa from front
and from the side (from Bureau of Entomology of the
U. S. Department of Agriculture).

beetle. The jaws are at its tip. It is used for boring

deep holes through the thick hulls, down to the kernel. The
egg is then inserted into the hole, and the larva hatching
 PLANTS PRODUCING
=====:::;=====c===r=== -::---o=o::=o:============
__
_.
L_E�A�\_'E
__S ,-����__
NAME Kind of Plant' i�f�!� I __�___________
Size4 .�arg�
I
--
Form3 __

T
--- ----- ---

Shellbar k Hickory

Pignut

Bitternut

Butternut

Walnut

Chestnut

Beechnut

Hazelnut

White Oak

Chestnut Oak

Red Oak

Linden

Buckeye

------ -------------- -------

'Tree, shrub, or herb. 2 Full, approximate. 3 Diagram.

4 Width by length in inches; of a single leaflet, if compound.
 29

WILD N UTS A N D ACORN S.

NUTS : Character of Animals I

I
eating it" Quality6
Hulls Shells Kernel

' :Specify whether fe)l·aging on it or living wit ] , m

6 Palatability, o ilin es s , starchiness, a c ri d i ty , etc.
30 NATU RAL H ISTORY OF THE FARM

from the egg finds there a reac1y-made passage down to

its food. The larvce h ave done their destructive work when
the nut s fal l .They are ful l grown and are ready to leave the
-

nuts and enter the ground, there to compl ete their trans­
fonnati ons An e asy way to get the larvce, and at the same
.

time to learn the extent of their infestation, would be to

gather a few quarts of chestnuts or acorns freshly fallen from
the trees, 3.nd put them in glass j ars to stand awhile. The
1arvce e aving the nuts (emerging thro ugh rem ark ab l y
small hol e s which th ey gnaw through the shell) will descend
to the b ottoms of the j ars and r emain there, where l'eadi1y
seen. T hey will b e gi n to emerge at once, and in l ess than a
fo rtnight all will be out , and may be counted. These, and
twig-pruners and bark-beetles, etc. , all have La be reckoned
with in the orchard where lluts are cultivated. In this study
we will giye our a t t e ntion to t h e nuts , notin g the infesti ng
animals only incidentally.

Study 3. The Nuts of the Farm

There is but a short p erio d of a week to ten days about the
t im e of th e first hard frost, when the work here outlined can
best be done. Take advantage of it , shifti ng the date of
other stu di es , if need be. The tools needed will be hammers
for cra cking the shells, and pocket knives for cutting the soft
parts of the nuts ; also, containers for takins; spe ci me ns
home. The use of lineman' s climbers and of beating-sticks in
the tree-tops is p e rmissi bl e to
a careful a nd experienced per­
son ; but the use of hooks 011 l ight poles fot drawillg down
hori z ont al boughs within reach from th e gro UllJ IS safer,
and has the adyantage that all members of the class can s e e
wh at is going OI L

The program of the work will include a visit to the nut­

bearing trees and an exam ination of their crop, first on the
 NUTS OF THE FARM 31

tree, then in the hulls, then shelled, then cracked ; then an

examination of the quality of the kernels.
The record of this s tudy will consist in :
I. A table prepared with column headings as indicated on
pages 2 8 and 2 9 , and filled out from the study of the speci­
mens.
2. Simple sectional diagrams, showing the structure of
such diverse forms as the following :
( a) A butternut or walnut.
(b) A hickory nut or pecan.
(c) An acorn.
( d ) A beechnut or chestnut.
(e) A linden nutlet.
 IV. THE FARM STREAM

"A Zl the rivers run into the sea; yet the sea is not full; unto the place
from whence the rivers come, thither they return again . "
-Ecclesiastes r : ,-; .

There was a time when the streams o f our "well-watered

country" were more highly prized than now. They "were
storehouses of food. They were highways of travel . They
were channels of transportation. Several things happened to
divert interest landward. The good timber along the vall eys
was all cut and there were no more logs to be floated down­
stream to mill . The American plow was invented, making
possible the tillage of vastly increased areas of ground.
More cereals could be grown and more forage for cattl e . The
fishes of the streams became less necessary for food ; and
with the phenomenally rapid increase of population \yhieh
followed, the fishing failed. It became easier and cheaper to
raise cattle fo r food than to get it by fishing. Then came the
railroads, providing more direct and speedy transportation
and travel ; and the streams were abandoned. Indeed,
what happened to them was worse than neglect . The regu­
larity of their supply of water was interfered with as the water­
holding forest cover was destroyed and springs dried ul' .
They became dumping places for the refuse of all sorts of
establishments along their banks. :t\ot even their beaut y 'xas

cared for-their singular beauty of mirroring surface::; and

sinuous banks of broad bordering meadows , backed by
wooded headlands . The pioneer was not so blind to the
grander beauties of nature. Go through the country and
mark where the first settlements were made . You will find
them not far from the waterside, but situated where the :11 - ,ple
beauties of land and water, hill and vale, are spread Ol; t to
VIew. Our predecessors ,vould not have been satisfied with a
32
 THE FARM STREAM 33

seven-by-nine lot, a bit of lawn with a peony in the front

yard, and a view of an asphalt pavement.
B efore the surveyor came along, lines were laid down
according to the law of gravity. The land was divided and
subdivided , not b y fences , but by streams.
Chief among the agencies that have shaped our farms is the
power of moving water. By it the soils have been mixed and
sifted and spread out. Water runs down hill, and the soils
move ever with it. With every flood, a portion is carried a
little way , to be dropped again as the current slackens, and
another portion is carried farther, to mix with soils from
various distant sources and form new fields at lower levels.
Small fields are forming now in the beds and borders of every
stream . And there, even as on land, some of them are ex­
posed, shifting and barren, and others are sheltered and set­
tled and p roductive.
The rain descends upon the fields and starts down every
slope, gathering the loosened soil particles, collecting in rills ,
increasing in volume, and cutting gullies and picking up
loosened stones , and pouring its mixture of mud and stones
into the creek at the foot of the slope. Then what does the
creek do with this flood-time burden ? Go down to its banks
and see . See where it has dropped the stones in tumbled
heaps at the foot of the rapids ; the gravel , in loose beds just
below ; the sand , in bars where the current slackens ; the
mud in broad beds where the water is stil l ; for its carrying
power lessens as its flow slackens, and it holds the finest
particles longest in suspension.
It will be evident that , of all these deposits, the mud flats
are least subj ect to further disturbance by later floods. Here,
then, plants may grow , least endangered by the impact of
stones and gravel and sand in later floods or by the out-going
ice in spring. So here are the creek 's pleasant fields of green,
its submerged meadows, whereas the beds where the current
runs swiftly appear comparatively barren.
34 NATURAL HISTORY OF THE FARM

THE PLANT LIFE OF THE STREAM

The r a p i d s
are by no means
destitute of life.
G i v e n natural
waters, a tem­
perature a b o v e
freezing, l i g h t
and air, plants
will grow any­
where : here ,
they m u s t be
such plants as
can withstand
the shower 0 f
stones that every
fl o o d b r i n g s
FIG. 1 2 . Spray o f riverweed (Potamogeton crispus) .
From a drawing by Miss Emmeline Moore. down upon them.
They must be
simply organized plants, that are not killed when their cell
masses are broken asunder. Such plants are the algae ; and
these abound in the swiftest waters. They fonn a thin
stratum of vegetation covering the surfaces of rocks and tim­
bers. Its prevailing color is brown, not green. Its dominant
plants are diatoms. These form a soft, gelatinous, and very
slippery coating over the stones. Individually they are too
small to be recognized without a microscope, but collec­
tively, by reason of their nutritive value and their rapid
rate of increase, they constitute the fundamental forage
supply for a host of animals dwelling in the stream bed with
them.
There are green algce also in the rapids. The most con­
spicuous of these is Cladophora, which grows in soft trailing
masses of microscopic filaments, fringing the edges of stones in
 T H E FARM STREAM 35
the swiftest current, or trailing down the
ledges in the waterfall, or encircling the
piling where the waves wash it constantly.
It is of a bright green color. There are apt
to be various other algre also, some forming
spots and blotches of blue-green color on the
surfaces of rocks, where partly exposed at low
water, and others forming little brownish
gelatinous lumps like peas lying on the
stream bed. Of the higher plants there will
be hardly any present in the rapids : per­
haps, a few trailing mosses or other creepers
rooted in the crevices at the edge of the cur­
rent, and just escaping annihilation at every
F,G. 13. Leaf-form
in three common sub­
flood.
merged plants whose
In quiet waters covering muddy shoals leaves �ow in whorls
at the n ode s : a, the
the vegetation is richer and more varied. surrounding the stem

common
The dominant plants are seed plants. (EkJdea canadensis or water-weed

Some of these (such as are shown in Figs. I 2 b,Philotria canadensis) ;

wort (Cera/ophyllum
the water horn­
and I 3 ) grow wholly submerged. A few grow demersum
water milfoil (Myrro.
); ' c, t h e
rooted to the bottom, but have broad phyUttm) .
leaves (Fig. I 4) that rest upon the surface.
A few small plants (Fig. I S ) float free upon the surface in the
more sheltered openings. And there are many rooted in the

FIG. 14. Outlines of four common kinds of floating leaves: a, the floating river­
weed (Po/amoge/on na/ans) ; b, the spatter-dock (NymPhaa advena) ; c, the white water­
lily (Caslaillia odora/a) ; d, the water shield (Brasenia pelto/a ) .
 NATURAL H ISTORY OF THE FARM

mud at the bottom, that

stand erect and emer­
gent with their tops
above the water. A
FIG. 15. Floating plants: a, duckweeds; few o f the more strik-
b, the floating liverwort (Ricciocarpus natans) .
ing and characteristic
of these are shown in Figure 1 6 . Algce are common
enough here also. Brown coatings of diatom ooze over­
spread the submerged stems, and flocculent green mats
of "blanket algae" lie in sheltered openings, often buoyed to
the surface on bubbles of oxygen.

THE ANIMAL L I F E O F THE STREAM

The animals that live in the rapids are small in size, but
most interesting in the adaptations by means of which they
are enabled to withstand the on-rush of the waters. One of
them at least, the black-fly larva, occurs in such numbers as
to form conspicuous black patches in most exposed places­
on the very edge of the stones that form the brink of waterfall s
and on the sides of obstructions in the C1irrent. Individually
these larvae are small (half an inch long) , with bag-shared
bodies, swollen toward the rear end, where attached by a
single sucking disc to the supporting surface. Attached in
thousands side by side,
they often thickly cover
and blacken several
square feet of surface.
They sway gently in the
current as they hang with
heads down stream.
These larvae spin at­
II
tachment threads by F!G. 1 6 . Aquatics that rise from standing
means of which they may water: a, the great bullrush (Scirpus lacustris) ;
b, the sweet flag (A corus calamus) ; c, the bur­
change location. The reed (Sparganium eurycarpum) ; d, the cat-tail
(Typha latifolia) .
 THE FARM STREAM 37
thread i s exuded a t the mouth (as a �
liq uid which hardens on contact with the rfj;. �
water) , attached to the stone and spun
. ed length . The I arva, WI th the black-fly (Simulium) .
out to t he deSlr
FIG. 17. The larva of
.

disc loosened, swings free upon the thread,

reversed in position and hanging with head upstream.
A ft er a time it will fasten itself by its sucker again. B y
using a very short thread and its su cker alternately, the
larva may move short distances over the supporting surface
in a series of loopings, its position being reversed at each
attachment in a new place. Black-fly larvae are excellent
food for fishes, but they live for the most part in places that
are to fishes wholly inaccessible. They feed upon micro­
scopic organisms and refuse adrift in the stream, and they
gather their food out of the passing current by means of a pair
of fan-like strainers, located on the front of the head near the
mouth. Adult black-flies of certain species bite fiercely in
northern forests. Other species, known as "buffalo-gnats"
and "turkey-gnats" , are important pests of live stock. Other
species are harmless.
In the same situations with the
black-fly larvae, the neat little food­
traps of the seine-making caddis-worms
may always be found. Each i s a li ttle ,
transparent, funnel-shaped net, half an
FIG. 18. Diagram of a inch wide, opening always upstream,
seine-making caddis-worm's and tapering downward into a silken
fishing apparatus and his
dwelling; arrowS indicate tube, lodged in some sheltering crevice,
the direction of the current
over the stream bed; a. the in which the greenish, gill-bearing
front edge of the distended
seine through which the caddis-worm that makes it dwells.
water is strained; b . the
catching surface of finer Then there is a group of diverse in­
mesh at the bottom of the
seine and adjacent to the
door of the tube. c. in which sect larvae found habitually in the
the larva dwells. in the rapids clinging to stones, that agree
shelter of the rock.d. (After
an unpublished drawing by in being flattened and more or less
Miss Alice A. Noyes).
 O
NATURAL HISTORY F THE FARM

limpet-shaped. Two o f these are shown in

Figure I 9 . In all of them flaring margins
of the body fit down closely to the stone and
deflect the water, so that it presses them
against their support.
In still water the deep pools are the
FIG. 19. T w o
insect larvae that
stick to s tones in special home of the larger fishes. We shall
rapid water : a , the return to them in the next study. In the
II a t ri ffl e - beetle
(Psephenus l e c o n ­
lei ) ; b . the n e t­
shoaler parts and in the midst of the aquatic
veined m i dge (Ble­ vegetation are the lesser fishes and many other
pharocera) .
familiar vertebrates, frogs and their tadpoles,
salamanders, turtles, etc . , of uncertain occurrence. Much
more generally distributed and constantly present are a
few molluscs and crustaceans, such as are shown in Figure
20. There are a few adult insects (fig. 2 r ) and many insects
in immature stages (figs. 2 2 , 2 3 ) and 2 4 . Some help toward
the recognition of these may be had from the table on pages
40 and 4 I , which contains brief hints, also, of the situation
they occupy in the water and the role they play in the food
consumption.
There are leeches, and fresh-water sponges and bryozoans,
and a host of lesser forms of many groups, mostly too small to
CRUS TACE ANS MOL L USC"..)

FIG. 20. Some common crustaceans and molJuscs: crawfish. with the aselJus. at
the left and the scud (Gammarus) at the right;-also, a mussel and two snails;
(Limnaa, on the left, and Planorbis on the r igh t) .
 T H E FARM STR E A M 39

be seen without a
lens and too nmn­
erous even to be
mentioned here.
The water is like
another world of
life, containing a
few forms that are
directly useful to FIG. 2 1 . Adult aquatic insects: a, the back-swimmer
us and many more beetle (Notonecta) ; b, the wat-=r-boatman (Corixa) ; c , 8. di ving­
(Dytiscus) ; d, a giant water-bug (Benacus) .
that furnish for-
age for these ; containing a few that are noxious when
adults, such as black-flies, horse-flies and mosquitoes, and a
host of other forms, all of interest to the naturalist, but not
known to be of practical importance. They are all a part
of the native population of the stream, and each has a share
in carrying on its natural social functions.
In the water as on land, green plants represent the great
producing class, while animals and parasitic plants are the con­
smners. And among
t h e animals there
are herbivores and
carnivores, parasites
and scavengers.
One who but casu­
a 1 1 y examines the
animal life of the
stream is apt to see
chiefly carnivorous
forms ; for these are
most i n evidence :
FIG. 22. Aquatic insect larvae: a. a diving-beetle, and here, as else­
Coptotomus (after Helen Williamson Lyman) ; b, a
dobson larva, or hellgrammite, Corydalis cornuta (after where, heI bivores,
Lintner) ; c, an ad-fly larva, Sialis (after Maude H . b e i n g poorly
Anthony).
 Recognition characters of some oj the commoner
Sing l e c1i-s tinctive characters

1 . Forms in which the immature stages (commonly known a s nymphs)

---�-- ,
and are plainly visible upon the back.

-
COM:l\WN NAM:E ORDE R FORM TAILS
-- I .----.---------
.�______
I ---

Stone fl es
i Plecoptera depressed I 2. long
I
! Ephemerida i 3 . long : 2)

\
May-flies elongate, variable (rarely
Damsel�flies I Odonata slender, tapering
I
rear- see gills
I
- I
! ward
Dragon-flies Odonata stout . variable very short , spinelike

Water b ugs i Hemiptera short , stout, very like variable

a du lt s
�. 2____________
2. Form s in which the immature stages differ very greatly f rom the adults
_________

I
internal ly and not visible from the outside , and having the leg s sho rter , rudi-

- !1
E
AM__ _ ORD E R LEGS GILLS
__ O_
C_ _
MM_O_"
_' _N
__ _
�__ .__

Water m oths i Lepidoptera 3 p airs of minute of numerous soft white

I jointed legs followed filaments. or entirely

i
by a number of pairs wanting
of fleshy prolegs I

I
Caddis-worms Trichoptera 3 pairs rather long : \�ariable or wanting

7 pair of l ong , lateral

�
N europtera 3 pairs shorter s
I
Orl,flies
filaments
3 pairs
� laments, or want
Dobsons Neuroptera tufted at base of lateral

mg
Water-beetles Coleoptera 3 pairs usually wanting
True flies Diptera uJanting usually only a bunch
of retractile anal gills

3.

TAIL
--------� ----

Further characters of some common dipterous larvae. These are distin-

I
COMMON NAME FA ILY HEAD
M

Crane�flies Tipulidae retracted and invisible a respiratory disc bord­

, ered with fleshy ap­
pendages
Net-veined midges Blepharoceridae tapering into body wanting

Black -
M osquitoes

flies

rrue midges
Culicidae

Simuliidae

Chironomidae
free

free

free
with swimming fin of
fringed hairs
with caudal ventral
attachment disk
tufts of hairs

-
Soldier-flies Stratiomyiidae small, free floating hairs
Horse-flies Tabanidae acutely tapering tapering body

S nipe flies
i ng tai ls
Leptidae tapering, retractile with two short taper­

Syrphus· flies Syrphidae minute exte nsile proc ess as

lo ng as the body
Muscid fl ies Muscoidea rudimentary truncated
forms of aquatic insects in their immature stages. 41
are printed in it li a cs .

are not remarkably different from the adults. The wings develop externally

I
I rapids , D T
I mainly carnivorous
GILLS OTHER PECULIARITIES HABITAT FOO - HABI S
------- 1
,
�

many. minute, around I . . . . . . . . . . 1

. . . . . . . . . .

bases of the legs

7 pairs on back
3 leaflike
I . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . all waters
caudal gill- immense grasping lower slow and stagnant
I! maicarnivorous
�ly herbivorous

I
carnivorous
plates lip waters

) carnivorous
internal gill chamber immense grasping lower slow and stagnant
at end of body lip waters
wanting j' jointed beak for punc- all waters
turing and sucking
of the same species, being more or less wormlike, having wings developed

)
mentary, or even wanting (larvae proper ) .

REAR END OF B ODY OTHER PECULIARITIES : HABITAT FOOD HABITS

a pair of fleshy pro- . . . . . . . . . . . 1 -

��l �aters herbivorous

i
. . . . . . . . .

legs with numerous

claws on them I I
do., with paired larger mostly living in port- ! all waters mostly herbivorous
hooks at tip
a long tapering tail
able cases
.
I
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . gravelly beds [ �
I
carn vorous

p a i red hooked claws I . . . . . . . . . . . . . a11 waters I carniVorous

waters \! carnivorous
I ' m' 'a'll', ' o' .''� •
variable . slow or stagnant
' ' ' ' ' ' ' '
see next table ap see next table
I
h ead s f t en all waters
parently wanting

guished from aquatic larvae of other groups by the absence of true legs.

I I
FOOD HABITS
FLESHY LEGS, OR PRO- O THER PECULIARITIES H A B ITAT
LEGS
____________
variable . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ' shoals herbivorous mostly

wanting flat wbed body with rocks in falls diatoms, etc.

row of ventral suckers
wanting swollen thoracic seg- pools (at surface) herbivorous
ments
one beneath the mouth "fans" on head for rocks in rapids herbivorous
food-gathering
1 in front ,2

sn
at rear live mostly in soft all waters herbivorous
end of body tubes
wanting depressed form still water (at surface) herbivorous
wa t ing tubercle covered sp;n- beds in pools
die-shaped body
carnivorous

tou t p aired beneath rapids under stones carnivorous

wanting shallow pools

usually wanting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
.
42 NATURAL HISTORY OF THE FAR?vI

equipped for fighting, cannot afford to

t'
be conspicuous. B ut if one will reflect
'- \.> ' . •

that carnivores can not maintain

themselves indefinitely by eating one
b another, and will look a little more
closely, he will find plenty of the
herbivorous forms. These are they
whose economic function is that of
"turning grass into flesh, in order that
carnivorous Goths and Vandals may
subsist also, and in their turn pro­
claim ' All flesh is grass ' " (Coues) .
The most widespread, abundant,
FIG. 23.
of four common neuropterous and important of the herbivores of the
Immature stages

insects: a. a dragon-fly (Anax stream are apt to be the scuds (Fig.

junius) ; b, a dam sel-fly
(Amphiagrion amphion) ; c , a 2 0 ) , the may-fly nymphs ( Fig . 2 ,d) ,
sd,tone-fly ( A croneuria sp ? ) ; 3
a may-fly (Callibretis sp ? ) .
and the larvre of midges (Fig . 2 4 ,d) .

Study 4. The Farm Stream

This study assumes that there is accessible some creek, or
large brook or small river, having rapids and shoals and pools
and reed-grown bays in it, all easy of access. If the banks
where the work is to be done are too soft, rubber boots for
wading, or temporary walks that will make wading unneces­
sary, will have to be provided. Each student should be pro­
vided with a dip-net for catching specimens, a shallow dish in
which to examine them, a lifter with which to transfer them,
and a few vials in which small specimens may be examined
with a lens.
A normal condition of the stream is necessary ; high water
and great turbidity will render the work unsatisfactory.

Program-Go over the area marked for examination, begin­

ning with the pools having mud bottom, and proceeding to
 THE FARM STREAM 43

, <ttii��
�
the rapids. Note the
extent of mud, sand, ' \ " , ,, ,° \1 '
a
gravel, rubble, and flat­ CJ I i ! ! b ! ! j I , ,-j
stone bottom, and their
relation to slope and cur­ -- r
{
rent. Note also the
physical conditions that
organisms have to meet
FiG. 24. The larvae of four two-winged
in each situation. flies (Dip/era ) : a . the swale·f1y (Sepedon) .
withdrawing beneath the surface film o f the
Collect and examine water; b, the punkie (Ceratopogon) ; c , the
phantom midge larva (Core/hra ) ; and d, the
the commoner plants common midge (Chironomus) .
and animals, first of the
rapids and then of the still water, omitting the fishes,
( except to note where they are seen . )

The Record of this study will consist of :

I. A map, on which are indicated as clearly as possible :

I . Waterfalls and riffles.

2. The extent of each sort of bottom .
3. The principal plant beds.
4. The fish pools.

II. List of all the water plants observed, arranged in a

table with column headings as follows :
Name (this will be supplied by the instructor) .
Grows where (that is, in which of the situations examined) .
Depth of water (approximate) .
Growth-habit (simple or branched, erect or trailing, stem­
less, leafless, etc . ) .
Remarks.

III. List of all the water animals observed, arranged in a

table with column headings as follows :
Name (this will be supplied by instructor, if needed) .
Lives where (in which of the situations examined) .
44 NATURAL H I STORY OF THE FARM

At what depth (approximate) .

Eats what (your own specific observations rather than
general data taken from table) .
Habits of locomotion (walking, swimming, looping, etc. ) .
Remarks.
IV. A summary and comparison of the chief differences
between the several situations, and of the differences in
abundance and kind of plant and animal inhabitants.
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Title: L'esprit impur: roman

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK L'ESPRIT IMPUR:

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 GILBERT DE VOISINS

L'ESPRIT IMPUR

— ROMAN —

ÉDITIONS GEORGES CRÈS ET Cie

21, rue Hautefeuille, Paris

Succursales :
Paris, 116, Boulevard Saint-Germain
Zurich, 7, Tiefenhöfe — Paradeplatz

MCMXIX
 DU MÊME AUTEUR :

LA PETITE ANGOISSE, roman.

POUR L'AMOUR DU LAURIER, roman.
LE DÉMON SECRET, roman.
SENTIMENTS, critique.
LES MOMENTS PERDUS DE JOHN SHAG.
LE BAR DE LA FOURCHE, roman.
L'ENFANT QUI PRIT PEUR, roman.
ÉCRIT EN CHINE.
LE MIRAGE, roman.

Prochainement :

FANTASQUES, petits poèmes.

LE JOUR NAISSANT, roman.

IL A ÉTÉ TIRÉ DE CET OUVRAGE :

Trente exemplaires sur vergé d'Arches (dont 15 hors commerce)

numérotés.

Copyright by G. Crès et Cie, 1919

Droits de traduction, de reproduction et d'adaptation réservés pour tous pays.

A
FERNAND DROGOUL
 TEMPORIS

IN MEMORIAM PRÆTERITI
IN INTENTIONEM FUTURI
ET IN LAUDEM PRÆSENTIS

G. V.

SOYEZ BÉNI, MON DIEU, QUI DONNEZ LA SOUFFRANCE

COMME UN DIVIN REMÈDE A NOS IMPURETÉS.

BAUDELAIRE.

CELUI A QUI IL A ÉTÉ DONNÉ DE SOUFFRIR DAVANTAGE,

C'EST QU'IL EST DIGNE DE SOUFFRIR DAVANTAGE.

DOSTOIEVSKY.
L'ESPRIT IMPUR
 CHAPITRE PREMIER
UN PANTIN DE BOIS

Jacques Damien regarda autour de lui avec un peu d'ironie.

Lentement il se promena de droite et de gauche, reconnut des
meubles, des tableaux, divers objets, sourit à une petite boîte en
laque rouge, posée sur un socle noir, feuilleta, debout, un roman
ouvert sur le bureau, leva le coin de la tenture qui fermait la pièce,
jeta un coup d'œil dans le salon, puis, après avoir, du doigt, redressé
contre le mur un cadre oblique, se déclara satisfait.
« Oui, murmura-t-il, ça peut aller. Deux ou trois jours encore,
pour la mise au point, mais, le tapis une fois posé dans
l'antichambre et le piano en place, je serai vraiment chez moi. »
Il s'assit à son bureau. Son visage rasé avait repris un air
tranquille. Quelques instants avant, on eût dit que Damien se
moquait de tout, de cette tenture rouge qu'il aimait pourtant, de ce
fauteuil de cuir, de ce vase chinois, de lui-même aussi. Maintenant, il
écrivait une lettre d'affaires un peu longue et commençait à
s'ennuyer. Seul un petit spasme bref du coin droit de la bouche
montrait qu'il n'avait pas retrouvé tout son calme.
Durant qu'il séchait une page sur le papier buvard, il s'interrompit
soudain et, se rejetant en arrière, porta une main à son front.
 « Oh! s'écria-t-il à voix haute, pourvu que ce soit fini! pourvu que
je me sois trompé! »
Il entendit alors que l'on sonnait à la porte de l'antichambre et se
rasséréna.
« Sans doute, voilà Gautier. Oui, deux coups de sonnette, c'est
lui. »
On soulevait la tenture.
« Je me sens tout à fait dépaysé, dit Gautier Brune en entrant,
mais cela me paraît fort bien, très réussi, très toi-même. Ton billet
était pressant : je suis venu, aussitôt mon déjeuner avalé… Rien de
grave?
— Excuse-moi si je t'ai dérangé, mon ami, et merci d'être arrivé
si vite. Donne-moi toute ta journée ; nous aurons peut-être à causer
longuement : il y a matière. Nous dînerons ensemble. Pour l'instant,
assieds-toi ; ce nouveau divan est remarquable. »
Réunis, ils retrouvaient vite cette allure paisible et sûre que
permet une longue affection sans orages. On eût dit, à les voir, de
deux indifférents, si, de temps à autre, un sourire, une passagère
expression d'angoisse, un regard fraternel et confiant, ne donnaient
à leur entretien toute sa qualité. Ils se connaissaient bien pour s'être
connus depuis l'enfance. Ils ignoraient ces instants d'inquiétude qui
troublent l'amitié. On sentait qu'entre eux il n'y avait jamais eu
aucun sujet de plainte. Leur assurance provenait de là, comme leur
sérénité coutumière.
« Jacques, je t'avoue que ton billet ne m'a, d'abord, pas rassuré
du tout, dit Gautier Brune ; il n'était guère du ton que l'on prend
pour demander à un ami son avis sur une installation nouvelle, et
puis j'ai songé aux heures que tu viens de vivre. Mon pauvre
Jacques! cette rupture a donc été pénible? »
La tête en avant, les coudes aux genoux, les mains tendues, il
parlait à voix presque basse. Gautier Brune n'aimait le bruit ni chez
lui-même, ni chez les autres ; sa nature y répugnait, ainsi qu'à toute
violence hors de propos, mais, par contre, il prisait les violences
utiles, une réponse nette, fût-elle meurtrière, un geste dur, bien
placé.
« Et tu as souffert? »
Ce regard quêteur par lequel il interrogeait son ami le montrait
en entier. Certains mouvements fugitifs du visage expliquent toute
une façon d'être, de sentir, de comprendre et d'aimer.
Jacques Damien éclata d'un rire aigu.
« Ah! mon vieux! combien tu te trompes! »
Brune laissa paraître quelque mauvaise humeur. De larges
épaules, de vigoureuses mains, redoutables mais intelligentes, une
solide carrure que sa taille moyenne affirmait encore, donnaient,
chez cet homme de vingt-cinq ans, aux cheveux châtain clair, une
singulière impression de force. Cette impression, le visage glabre
dont la mâchoire était trop carrée, l'eût accentuée jusqu'à la
brutalité, si les yeux ne l'avaient presque démentie, des yeux gris,
pleins de douceur, des yeux accueillants et tranquilles. — Gautier
Brune se portait bien, son teint frais en témoignait, comme les
méplats lisses de sa figure franche et nue. Il prenait plaisir à se tenir
en main, à se sentir maître de son corps ; il y trouvait une
satisfaction très consciente, il en était fier.
Damien l'avait agacé par son rire sans gaîté. Il le lui dit :
« Mon petit Jacques, même en y mettant la meilleure volonté, je
ne vois, dans ce que je t'ai raconté, rien de drôle.
— Ecoute, illustre médecin ; pour m'excuser, je te raconterai, en
quelques mots, la fin de mon idylle. »
Damien sourit encore, non plus par pose, mais pour se faire
pardonner un éclat de rire qu'il regrette. — Ah! que Jacques
ressemble peu à son ami Gautier Brune! — Un grand diable
dégingandé, aux allures de pantin, vigoureux cependant, sans rien
de maladif, le corps marqué d'une façon de désossement étrange, dû
à sa maigreur, à sa souplesse d'acrobate, à sa haute taille. — Des
cheveux blond pâle, plaqués, découvrent un grand front ; les yeux,
d'un bleu clair que l'on dirait parfois verdâtre, sont faits pour le rêve.
Leur regard sait se confier, se retenir, sait implorer, sait plaire.
Le reste de la figure, d'une beauté un peu molle, régulière mais
sans accent, déçoit : un nez trop fin, une bouche élégante, un
menton rasé comme la lèvre, dessiné d'un trait qui manque de
vigueur. On devine, à ne voir que cette partie de la figure, un
homme faible, mais le large front découvert, mais les yeux pleins de
mélancolie, d'ironie ou de joie, de douceur aussi, n'offrent rien de
banal. Particulière, enfin, très particulière, cette maigreur osseuse de
tout le corps, peut-être même étrange ; d'ailleurs Jacques
n'admettrait pas qu'on le plaisantât sur ses singularités physiques,
et, jadis, plus d'un de ses camarades de collège s'était vu corrigé
très rudement pour avoir usé du sobriquet « pantin de bois » qu'il
tenait pour injurieux.
« Voici, dit-il, comment cela s'est passé. L'histoire, au demeurant,
est à peine amusante. Je m'étais débarrassé de ma petite
garçonnière de la rue Daru, afin de m'installer ici, et fis part à
Juliette de mes intentions. Elle s'en réjouit d'abord, pensant bien que
je la supplierais avant peu de partager avec moi ce nouveau foyer…
ce « nouveau foyer », tu entends? le mot n'est pas de mon
invention! La jeune personne voulut donc me donner des conseils,
choisir mes meubles, mes tentures, arranger, déranger, critiquer,
écarter, proposer et disposer suivant son goût. Ah! cher Gautier, le
goût de Mlle Juliette Lancy! Tu n'imagines pas cela! Elle n'aimait
point le laid, non, elle aimait le médiocre ; à une étoffe hideuse, elle
préférait avec courage une étoffe sotte et, surtout, elle montrait un
flair admirable pour distinguer l'authentique du faux, au bénéfice du
faux, naturellement.
« Sans doute aurais-je dû prendre mon mal en patience, mais,
d'autre part, je me sentais un peu nerveux de ce seul fait que
j'éprouvais un gros chagrin à quitter Maman, la maison où j'étais né,
tant de souvenirs, tant d'habitudes anciennes, bien assises, tout cela
que j'aimais et dont je me séparais avec brusquerie. Déjeuner et
dîner souvent avec quelqu'un, c'est autre chose, crois-moi, que de
vivre à ses côtés. Tu me diras que Maman demeure au premier coin
de rue, à trois minutes d'ici ; je le sais, mais les distances n'y font
rien. Il me semble même que la sentir si proche augmente mon
regret… non, pas mon regret : ma peine…
— Jacques, je ne comprends pas, interrompit Gautier Brune.
Pourquoi donc as-tu…
— Laisse! Nous approchons de la péripétie de clôture. — Juliette
devenait de plus en plus insupportable. Un jour, elle me fit une
scène à propos des meubles de ma chambre à coucher, de vieux
meubles de la maison, très sympathiques, très fraternels, qui
restaient sans emploi et que Maman venait de me donner.
« Jamais je ne coucherai là-dedans! criait Juliette ; jamais je ne
vivrai là-dedans! c'est lourd, c'est affreux!… C'est paysan! »
« Mais, ma chère, lui répondis-je, exaspéré, je ne te demande
pas d'y vivre, ni même d'y mourir… ni, surtout, d'y coucher! »
« Il y eut alors une crise de rage, puis un long discours, résumé
fiévreux de mes travers, de mes défauts, de mes ridicules, rappel de
plusieurs actions fâcheuses dont je m'étais rendu coupable, de mille
et un faits répréhensibles dont je porte la honte. Elle ne décolérait
pas ; elle en devenait laide! Oui, Juliette, à coup sûr une des plus
belles filles que j'aie vues et qui, souvent, se montrait charmante,
prenait un air de maritorne!
— N'abuse pas! interrompit Gautier. N'oublie pas que tu l'as
aimée!
— C'est indubitable. J'ai aimé une jeune femme que je pouvais
montrer, qui me faisait honneur, et dont le rire avait un joli ton. Cela
a duré deux ans… Mais, j'achève. Un soir, elle perdit toute mesure,
me reprocha de la quitter pour aller chez Maman, de ne jamais être
auprès d'elle, de lui préférer mes amis, de ne pas reconnaître son
talent théâtral… elle insista sur ce point… J'en passe. J'ai fini par la
mettre à la porte le plus poliment du monde, et depuis lors, nous
n'avons plus eu que des rapports épistolaires sans intérêt. J'ai tenu
bon. Elle s'emploie maintenant dans une revue, à Montmartre, où
elle chante : « Chatouillez mes gentils seins roses! » Le petit Lohéac
est son amant. — Voilà.
 — Pourquoi ne m'as-tu pas tenu au courant? dit Gautier. Une
lettre n'est pas si pénible à écrire! Je pouvais toujours disposer de
quarante-huit heures ; un télégramme m'aurait amené tout de suite.
Pour nous faire entendre l'un de l'autre, nous n'avons pas besoin de
beaucoup de paroles!
— Que veux-tu! J'ai l'habitude, pendant l'année ronde, de te voir
constamment ; cette saison entière passée dans le Midi, (à propos,
comment va-t-il, ton vieux client qui va mourir chaque soir et
reprend goût à la vie aux premiers feux du jour?) ces vacances
mordant sur l'automne, m'étonnaient. J'avais trop de choses à te
dire et de genres trop disparates. Des lettres t'auraient paru
insensées. »
Gautier Brune ne répondit pas tout d'abord, puis, très
lentement :
« Merci, dit-il, mon vieux client va mieux et peut durer encore
quelque temps. Mais parlons de toi : cela m'intéresse davantage. Tu
m'étonnes, tu me chagrines, je ne te reconnais plus. Quatre mois
d'absence suffiraient-ils pour te changer? Je ne comprends rien à ce
que tu me dis! rien! Hier matin, dès mon retour, je vais chez ta
mère ; je t'y trouve ; c'est là que j'apprends que tu n'habites plus
avec elle. Pourquoi cette décision dont, manifestement, vous
souffrez tous les deux? En sortant, tu me dis dans l'escalier : « J'ai
rompu avec Juliette, » et tu t'éloignes. Ce matin, tu m'envoies un
billet qui m'inquiète et m'appelle ici. Ce ne sont point là tes façons
coutumières, surtout avec moi. D'ailleurs, chez ta mère où tu te
montres toujours si exactement tel que tu es, sans artifices ni pose,
tu paraissais absent, et je suis sûr qu'elle l'a remarqué. »
Jusqu'alors, Jacques était resté presque immobile, à demi couché
sur le divan, sans autres gestes que ceux commandés par les
nombreuses cigarettes qu'il fumait. Ecoutant ou parlant, il regardait
obstinément le plafond de la pièce et sa voix semblait froide, blasée.
Il avait raconté cette rupture avec Juliette sur un ton indifférent,
presque désintéressé, ainsi que l'on fait pour une anecdote banale,
arrivée à autrui, mais, aux dernières paroles de Gautier, Jacques
bondit avec souplesse, se redressa d'un coup par un sursaut de
clown et s'écria, les yeux égarés soudain, les mains grandes
ouvertes, opposées comme à l'ennemi que l'on repousse :
« Maman l'a remarqué! Non! non! pas ça! pour l'amour de Dieu!
pas ça! Que Maman reste en dehors de cette horreur! Oh! non! pas
ça! »
Il y avait vraiment de l'épouvante dans son regard et, dans son
accent, une supplication pathétique, éperdue. Jacques gesticulait ;
sa figure, ridée soudain, semblait vieillie ; un instant, ses dents,
serrées et découvertes, grincèrent avec un petit bruit de meule.
Cet air de pantin démesuré que lui donnait sa maigreur devenait
tragique à ce moment ; la figure mobile accentuait l'effet du corps
souple par des yeux égarés, d'expression dure, et par une bouche
vaincue, molle, tremblante, qui, depuis le grincement horrible de ses
dents, demandait grâce.
Gautier s'était levé. Il posa une main sur l'épaule de son ami,
puis, sans hausser le ton :
« Arrête-toi, dit-il, c'est assez. »
Brusquement, Jacques Damien parut se figer tout entier et, sans
plus bouger, debout, la face lâche, les bras tombants, Jacques
Damien pleura.
Gautier Brune reprit :
« Jacques, tu ne m'as pas raconté ce dont tu souffres. Tu as
donc perdu confiance en moi? Cette rupture n'est qu'un incident ;
j'ai eu tort de m'y attacher. Parle, maintenant, et je saurai
comprendre. Tu pleures, Jacques! Tu pleures quand tu pourrais
t'expliquer! Tu n'es pas fou de pleurer! »
On eût dit que Damien n'avait pas entendu tout de suite les
paroles de son ami. Elles lui parvinrent très lentement et de très loin.
Peu à peu, il les recueillit, en pesa le sens et sa figure se reprit à
vivre, ses yeux se délivrèrent de l'épouvante qui les possédait, ses
bras se dégourdirent, sa bouche se raffermit. Un instant, il fut calme,
un court instant, puis les tout derniers mots de Gautier le
touchèrent : « Tu n'es pas fou de pleurer! » et Damien perdit pied
de nouveau.
Ce ne fut, au début, qu'un léger frémissement de la lèvre, mais
ce frémissement se précisa, s'expliqua en un sourire et, bientôt, le
sourire devint plus intense, devint narquois, devint cruel, jusqu'au
moment où, les yeux encore mouillés, Jacques éclata d'un rire
retentissant, bourru, jovial, goguenard, et qui s'accompagnait des
mouvements les plus grossiers de la pâmoison comique. Plié en
deux, les mains sur les cuisses, Damien riait. Soudain, il leva les bras
en l'air, dans un de ces gestes simples et forts par lesquels la joie du
cœur s'exprime parfois et qui ont toute la noble envergure d'une
acclamation.
« Bravo! cria-t-il, bravo! voilà qui est vraiment trouvé! Bravo,
mon ami! Ah! la belle formule : « Tu n'es pas fou de pleurer! » Elle
indique sans insister, elle laisse deviner, mais n'affirme pas ; elle
suppose… avec quelle élégance!… « Tu n'es pas fou de pleurer! »
C'est d'une psychologie hors pair! Oui! tu seras un grand psychiâtre!
Je te vois chef de clinique, demain soir! agrégé dès la fin de cette
semaine! Je te vois à l'Académie de Médecine, occupant toutes les
chaires à la fois, jouissant de tous les honneurs, couronné de toutes
les roses et de tous les lauriers : « Tu n'es pas fou de pleurer! » Oui,
mon ami, je suis fou… du moins, je commence… et, bientôt, je le
serai tout à fait! Non, je ne suis pas fou « de pleurer » ; c'est parce
que je me sens fou que je pleure. Mais… mais… n'importe! Bravo,
mon ami! Tu ne pouvais mieux dire! »
Il se tut ; il se laissa tomber mollement sur le divan et, d'une
pauvre petite voix suppliante, ajouta :
« Gautier! pas maintenant, je t'en prie! Je veux dormir un peu,
dormir une heure sur ce divan ; je ne dors plus! Ce soir, je
t'expliquerai, mais pas maintenant! Je veux dormir… Reste près de
moi.
— C'est entendu, » dit Gautier Brune.
 CHAPITRE II
UN AUTRE PANTIN DE BOIS

Il dormit, en effet, plus d'une heure, lourdement, sans bouger.

« Comment te sens-tu? demanda Gautier Brune qui lisait une
brochure, assis près du divan.
— Mieux, merci… bien… très abruti pourtant.
— Il te faudrait encore du repos, dit Gautier. Je te verrais
volontiers dans ton lit.
— Un instant… Laisse-moi reprendre contact. Oh! j'ai du plomb
dans le crâne!… Quelle heure est-il?
— Cinq heures et demie.
— Cinq heures et demie! Voyons! me reposer! Y penses-tu?
Maman m'a dit qu'elle viendrait sans doute vers la fin de l'après-
midi. J'ai de la chance de m'être réveillé à temps. »
Il sauta à bas du divan et se secoua comme un chien mouillé.
« Maman peut arriver d'un moment à l'autre. Devant elle, du
moins, il faut que je me tienne ; devant toi, je n'ai réussi qu'à me
faire honte. Je ne me croyais pas si pleutre… mais oui, si pleutre!
Que veux-tu? J'en avais trop lourd sur le cœur. Ces insomnies, ces
heures affreuses de dépression, mais surtout ces insomnies! Ah! ne
pas dormir, se retourner dans son lit jusqu'au jour, sentir le sommeil
qui s'offre, puis se retire, méchamment! Je parle du bon sommeil,
non du coup de trique inutile des drogues. Cela m'était déjà arrivé,
mais, à ce point, jamais!… Et puis il y a la peur, la peur qui fait crier,
et puis il y a… le reste!
— Le reste?
— Je t'en parlerai, mon ami. T'écrire ces choses, ce n'était pas la
peine ; d'ailleurs, je n'osais pas. Je t'en parlerai, ce soir, si tu veux.
Oui, ce soir. Es-tu libre, ce soir? Nous irons dîner au cabaret. Je n'ai
pas encore de cuisinière ; elle n'arrive que samedi. Et nous finirons
la nuit à Montmartre. Je t'en supplie, Gautier, ne prends pas ta figure
de médecin : c'est à l'ami que je parle, et au camarade.
— L'idée me semble absurde, dit Gautier Brune, mais, au fait… »
Il haussa les épaules.
« Et maintenant, dit Jacques, va-t'en, mon petit. Je veux être
seul avec Maman. Je t'attendrai ici, à huit heures moins un quart, en
veston.
— Compris, » dit Gautier d'un air calme.
Il rentra chez lui lentement, la tête basse, à petits pas. Ce qu'il
venait d'entendre lui faisait une âme douloureuse, mais ce qu'il
pressentait le torturait de façon plus cruelle encore.
« Ah! le pauvre bougre! murmura-t-il, le pauvre bougre!… Et s'il
savait!… »

Dès que Brune fut parti, Damien remit en ordre les coussins du
divan, repoussa le fauteuil de cuir, déplaça quelques bibelots et,
passant dans la chambre à coucher voisine, se regarda dans une
glace. Son visage portait des traces indéniables de fatigue.
« Pourvu que Maman ne remarque rien… Heureusement, le jour
baisse. »
Il se lava la figure à grande eau, se recoiffa, puis sonna son valet
de chambre.
« Louis, apportez les fleurs que j'ai mises dans un bol à l'office. »
 Il disposa quelques roses rouges sur la cheminée du salon,
d'autres, jaune et safran, sur son bureau et ouvrit la fenêtre,
trouvant qu'il restait dans la pièce un relent de fumée un peu âcre.
Penché sur la barre d'appui, Jacques Damien considérait la rue,
les façades des maisons, les sommets d'arbres d'un square qui
pointaient au-dessus des toits gris. Il tâchait de vivre dans l'instant
présent ; il se refusait à regarder l'heure échue ; il s'obligeait à
trouver un intérêt pittoresque aux ébats de ce chien qui parcourait
un balcon, jappant menu, à ce gamin pressé, criant les journaux du
soir, aux voitures qui passaient, aux lointains d'air où tournaient des
oiseaux et que bleuissait le crépuscule, mais l'ombre moite de ce
jour d'automne apportait, quoi qu'il en eût, sa mélancolie. Soudain, il
aperçut une silhouette chère traversant la chaussée. Il lui fit un
geste d'accueil, ferma la fenêtre et courut ouvrir la porte d'entrée.
L'ascenseur haleta quelques instants.
« Maman, c'est vraiment gentil d'être venue me voir. Donne-moi
ce petit sac qui ne te sert de rien, enlève ton manteau, embrasse
ton fils et permets qu'il te fasse les honneurs. »
Une demi-heure plus tard, Mme Damien, assise sur le divan,
causait avec Jacques qui lui servait une tasse de thé.
« Je crois t'avoir tout montré, dit-il. Eh bien! franchement, que
penses-tu de mon réduit?
— Ton réduit, d'ailleurs assez vaste, est arrangé de façon
charmante, mon ami, et je t'en félicite… »
Un sourire moqueur courut sur ses lèvres ; elle reprit :
« Il est même assez pratique, et je m'étonne, grand fantaisiste,
que tu aies songé à lui assurer cette qualité-là. Je prends note de
quelques petites choses qui te manquent.
— Maman chérie, tu es trop bonne! A ce propos… j'aurais bien
besoin d'un supplément de coussins pour ce divan. Ne te paraît-il
pas un peu nu? »
Elle se retourna.
 « Oui, peut-être. Je t'en enverrai ; je t'en ferai même quelques-
uns avec les chiffons arabes et persans qui me restent… Tiens!
Qu'est-ce donc que cela? »
Elle montrait, fixée au coin du mur, debout sur une tablette et
dominant la pile des coussins verts et rouges, une statue en bois,
haute de deux empans, fruste mais d'un caractère singulier.
« Comment! Je ne t'en avais pas parlé? C'est une idole de l'île de
Pâques, fort rare. Elle vient droit du Chili, je te dirai un jour de quelle
façon ; l'histoire t'amusera. — Je l'aime bien, mon idole ; elle me
rappelle cette anecdote que l'on m'a racontée d'un explorateur qui,
décrivant ses voyages à Baudelaire, maniait, roulait, culbutait et
tracassait une statuette en bois de ce genre. Baudelaire semblait fort
mal à son aise, ou, du moins, gêné. Il ne put, enfin, plus y tenir, et,
d'une voix grave, un peu scandalisée : « Monsieur, dit-il, de grâce!
Cessez de bousculer cette idole! Qui vous dit que ce n'est pas le vrai
Dieu? »
— Je croirais plutôt que c'est le vrai Diable, répliqua madame
Damien en riant, car il est affreux! affreux! malgré les beaux tons de
rouille de son bois. Allons, raccroche ta poupée au mur. — Sur
d'autres points, j'ai deux conseils à te proposer : d'abord, de mettre
un rideau quelconque devant ces rayons de livres reliés qui sont trop
près de la fenêtre et doivent recevoir le soleil en plein, puis, de bien
vouloir, quand tu invites une dame à prendre le thé, ne pas l'obliger
à vivre dans un éclairage de cave. On n'y voit goutte, mon enfant! Si
ton électricité marche, allume une lampe, sinon, j'irai demander une
bougie à la cuisine.
— Excuse-moi, Maman chérie! »
Pourtant, Damien hésita et trouva quelque difficulté volontaire à
tourner le commutateur, puis il s'en fut déranger des livres et des
papiers sur son bureau. Sa mère le regardait fixement quand il revint
dans la lumière. — Il se mit à parler aussitôt, d'une voix nerveuse :
« Maman, j'ai des reproches à t'adresser, des reproches graves!
— De mon côté, interrompit madame Damien, je t'en dirai
autant.
 — Oh! Quoi donc?
— Parle, d'abord…
— Tu penses que je plaisantais? Je ne plaisante pas. Tu sais bien,
Maman, que je déteste te voir ainsi vêtue! Voyons! Avec cette robe
noire, on dirait que tu as plus de cinquante ans!
— Je n'en suis pas si loin, Jacques! J'en ai quarante-sept!
— C'est pas vrai! Tu as trente-cinq ans, tout juste! J'imagine mal
comment tu t'es arrangée pour te procurer un fils de mon âge, mais
tu as trente-cinq ans, cela est sûr… et tu joues à la vieille dame!
Ecoute-moi : est-ce raisonnable? Tu serais en grand deuil que tu ne
t'habillerais pas autrement!… Il y a tout de même de longues années
que papa est mort!
— Tais-toi, mon petit! C'est aujourd'hui, précisément, le jour
anniversaire de sa mort, et je reviens du cimetière.
— Ah!… Oh! pardon, Maman!… Mais, tu sais que j'aime à te voir
vêtue selon ton âge apparent et dans un tout autre style. N'importe!
J'ai fait une gaffe cruelle et m'en excuse.
— Embrasse-moi… »
Il se pencha. De nouveau, elle le regarda avec attention, puis se
pinça les lèvres, comme pour retenir un sanglot.
« A mon tour, j'avais quelques reproches…
— Non, non, dit Jacques précipitamment. Pas aujourd'hui! Pas
pour ta première visite! Et puis, j'ai mal dormi, très mal ; je ne veux
rien entendre de désagréable. Maman chérie, je m'y refuse!
— Alors, dit-elle, viens te coucher ici, mets ta tête sur mes
genoux et repose-toi. Reste tranquille, ne bouge pas, ne parle pas. »
Sans souffler mot, il obéit. Il se laissait aller à sa persistante
fatigue ; il ne réagissait plus : il se sentait si faible! il laissait sa mère
lui caresser le front… Un quart d'heure après, il s'endormait encore.
Du temps passa. Mme Damien regardait son fils. Elle aussi s'était
retenue pendant cette visite. Maintenant, elle pouvait oublier sa
contrainte, et le beau visage immobile, aux traits fermés, à la
bouche vivante et volontaire, aux yeux sombres, montrait toute sa
douleur.
Elle glissa enfin deux coussins sous la tête du dormeur et
s'échappa, légère. Avant de soulever le rideau rouge, elle se
retourna. Un sourire courba ses lèvres quand elle vit, sur le divan,
cette figure nue, si apaisée, ce front si large, sous les cheveux
blonds en désordre, cette bouche entr'ouverte par le sommeil, et ces
yeux clos.
Dans l'antichambre, elle rencontra Gautier Brune qui venait
d'arriver. — Ils causèrent quelques instants, debout.
« Oui, dit Gautier, ces insomnies l'éreintent. Je voulais qu'il se
reposât, mais, puisque c'est fait, il me semble qu'il n'y a nul danger
à ce que Jacques passe une partie de la nuit dehors. D'ailleurs, il y
tient beaucoup. Je dirai à Louis de le laisser dormir tard, demain. Ne
craignez rien, je veillerai sur lui. Je n'ai pas à vous répéter, n'est-ce
pas, Madame, que je l'aime bien?
— Je le sais, mon ami. Vous le prouvez assez… Au revoir! »
Elle s'en fut, et Gautier entra dans le salon.
 CHAPITRE III
AU RESTAURANT

Un petit restaurant du quai de la Tournelle. La salle un peu

basse, mais point encombrée ; des garçons propres, méticuleux, aux
gestes précis ; leurs visages graves et fermés semblent
consignataires d'un secret d'importance. Près d'une fenêtre de coin,
Jacques Damien et Gautier Brune achèvent leur repas.
« J'aime cet endroit, dit Damien ; c'est un lieu de retraite ; on y
mange à bon escient. Cette salle a quelque chose de sérieux qui me
divertit de façon bourgeoise et mesurée ; la cuisine est sérieuse, elle
aussi ; le service est sérieux ; trop, peut-être… et pourtant non! Je
commence à goûter le genre Louis-Philippe. Enfin, la vue est
parfaite.
— Ajoute aux vertus de l'endroit, dit Gautier Brune, que l'on peut
y causer, ce que nous ne ferions certes pas aussi librement sur le
boulevard.
— Sachons donc profiter de cette licence tout en buvant notre
café, dit Jacques avec un sourire. »
Ils se turent, un temps, puis Damien reprit :
« Gautier, cela me gêne de t'avoir présenté un spectacle aussi
excessif de larmes et de déclamation. Un homme qui pleure, ça peut
faire de l'effet au théâtre, mais moi j'aurais dû exprimer ce que je
sentais à moins de frais, plus posément. Si tu le veux bien, nous
déciderons que l'incident est clos. Maintenant, je compte
m'expliquer, sans gestes, sans vociférations et, surtout, sans
mouchoir.
« Il est évident que je me porte mal. Je m'en suis aperçu, il y a
quatre mois environ (tu venais de partir pour le Midi), lorsque j'ai
commencé à ne plus dormir. Une nuit sans sommeil, mon Dieu! c'est
très désagréable, ce n'est pas tragique : on s'en donne une raison
plausible et l'on se dit : je dormirai demain. Mais quand, le
lendemain, on ne dort pas et le surlendemain non plus, et que,
durant le jour, on est pris de brusques somnolences qui abrutissent
sans reposer, alors mon ami, on finit par s'inquiéter. Tu étais absent.
Le médecin que j'ai consulté…
— Qui ça? demanda Gautier.
— Le docteur Stéphane… rue de Courcelles…
— Je connais… Pas bête, mais vieux… Continue.
— Le docteur Stéphane m'a donc offert un fort joli bouquet de
bonnes paroles douceâtres, en conclusion d'un examen très
méticuleux et très long. A l'en croire, il me fallait une hygiène stricte,
une chasteté relative… (je t'assure que ma rupture avec Juliette n'a
aucun rapport!) de la tempérance et du bromure. De cette liste, je
n'ai retenu que le bromure, sans autre effet notable que de
m'accabler davantage. Tout cela serait peu de chose et je te dirais
seulement : « mon ami, j'ai de cruelles insomnies qui m'ennuient
fort », si je ne souffrais d'un supplément d'inquiétude qui, je te
l'avoue, me désarçonne.
« Un soir, je m'étais couché tôt, content d'avoir presque sommeil,
mais tracassé parce que Maman se plaignait depuis quelques heures
d'une horrible migraine, et tu sais si elle se plaint peu! Je lisais dans
mon lit, assez inattentif à ma lecture, l'oreille tendue, au cas où l'on
aurait besoin de mes soins et que l'on m'eût appelé. D'autre part, je
me disais : « ai-je sommeil? n'ai-je pas sommeil? vais-je dormir? »
Je lisais mal, je lisais avec peine : les lettres de la page dansaient
étrangement devant mes yeux. J'éteignis enfin pour me donner du
repos, mais ne fus pas long à rallumer. Au pied de mon lit, sur la
traverse de cuivre, une tête, éclairée du dedans, de la taille d'une
pomme et qui ressemblait à une pomme, avec un teint jaune et
rouge de pomme, le même aspect luisant, ciré, d'objet neuf, souriait
d'un sourire fendu et, lentement, dodelinait.
« Mon petit Gautier, même aujourd'hui, j'ai peur d'y penser : il
me semble que je pourrais la revoir, dodelinante et souriante, posée
sur le bouchon de cette bouteille de cognac. Dès que je me trouvais
dans l'ombre, soudain, la pomme reparaissait. On eût dit qu'elle était
là, tout le temps, et comme eût fait une lumière subite, que l'ombre
seule la révélait. Pourtant non… lorsque je rallumais, elle ne
s'évanouissait que peu à peu, elle y mettait le temps, elle fondait
dans la lumière, comprends-tu? et son sourire devenait triste en se
perdant. Parfois les rêves donnent des visions toutes pareilles qui
épouvantent, mais au matin on en rit. Un cauchemar, un simple
cauchemar… Moi, je ne dormais pas!
« Je t'assure, mon ami, que je n'ai pas cédé tout de suite à la
peur. J'ai résisté d'abord, je me suis donné des raisons. Cette
pomme : une pomme que j'avais vue, la veille, à la devanture d'un
fruitier, rue de Monceau. Je m'étais plu à la regarder, longuement,
parce qu'elle faisait figure parmi les autres fruits plus ternes, plus
modestes. J'avais même pensé la phrase : « Elle fait figure », et le
mot « figure » prenait corps… Rien de plus simple!… Un souvenir
prolongé. Cela explique peut-être ; cela ne satisfait guère! J'en suis
même arrivé, en désespoir de cause, à m'imposer une idée
absurde : « J'ai mal aux yeux. Je veux croire que j'ai mal aux yeux.
Il faut que j'aie mal aux yeux. » J'accepte aussitôt la proposition
comme une certitude et j'agis en conséquence. Le lendemain même,
Vialle, l'oculiste, m'affirme que mes yeux sont les meilleurs qu'il ait
jamais examinés. Quel homme spirituel! il me permet, pour peu que
l'envie m'en prenne et que j'y trouve le moindre plaisir, de dévisager
le soleil, à l'occasion, et sans lunettes noires. Hélas! mon vieux
Gautier! si flatteur que ce soit d'être comparé à un aigle, cela ne m'a
pas guéri!
 « Deux nuits, souvent trois nuits par semaine, je revoyais sur la
traverse de mon lit cette pomme souriante. Elle y restait, suivant sa
fantaisie, quelques instants, une heure ou jusqu'au petit jour. Ah! j'ai
cru, parfois, que je deviendrais fou sans plus attendre et qu'en
entrant dans ma chambre, le lendemain, on verrait sur le lit une bête
tordue, hurlante et baveuse. Hurler! J'avais une telle envie de hurler!
Certains soirs, je devais me tenir ferme pour arrêter le moindre cri.
Je savais qu'il m'eût fait perdre la tête, j'en étais sûr. Mon ami, j'ai lu,
jadis, dans d'agréables romans psychologiques, la description d'un
jeune homme de bonne famille qui, lâché par sa maîtresse, mordait
son oreiller, et cela me paraissait bizarre, presque ridicule.
Aujourd'hui, je connais le goût d'un oreiller où l'on plante ses dents :
rien de savoureux, crois-m'en sur parole!
« Tu peux imaginer la gueule que je présentais au réveil! Maman
s'en apercevait bien! Et c'est alors, surtout, que je me suis laissé
prendre par la peur. L'idée que Maman se rendrait compte, un jour,
de tout cela m'épouvantait. Tu sais que mon père est mort quand
j'avais douze ans, d'une façon… comment dire?… Allons! du courage!
J'évite la difficulté… Reprenons. »
Damien se mit à parler d'une voix plus lente, plus appuyée.
« Tu sais, cher ami, que mon père est mort…
— Je sais, interrompit Gautier Brune. Passe! »
Mais Damien poursuivit :
« … Dans une maison de santé… que mon père est mort fou…
Voilà!… Cette pensée ne me quittait plus. Je me disais : « Je vais
suivre le même chemin et Maman souffrira, une seconde fois, tout
ce qu'elle a déjà souffert. » Des craintes de cet ordre, s'ajoutant à la
sombre mélancolie que je ressentais, me composaient une vie
intenable. Il fallait mentir assidûment, il fallait expliquer mes yeux
battus, ma pâleur, cette nervosité que je ne pouvais contraindre,
certains gestes, certains regards inconscients, mais qui
n'échappaient pas à un observateur affectueux… Voilà l'emploi de
mes journées, mon ami… Et surtout, ah! oui, surtout il fallait me
plaindre, me plaindre diplomatiquement, ni trop, ni trop peu. Mes
insomnies… en ai-je assez joué de mes insomnies!… Maman est-elle
convaincue qu'il n'y a rien d'autre?… Un beau soir, n'en pouvant plus,
je me suis décidé à partir, à quitter la maison que j'aimais, si pleine
de souvenirs, à m'installer chez moi. Les quelques bonnes heures où
je me sentirais libre, je les passerais avec Maman ; quant à mes
nuits, eh bien, j'en garderais l'épouvante pour moi. »
Gautier Brune n'avait pas encore prononcé une seule parole. Il
écoutait.
« Tu es vraiment un brave garçon, prononça-t-il posément de sa
voix égale et calme. Je veux dire que tu es un garçon vraiment
brave… Et depuis lors, comment te portes-tu?
— Je vais mieux, répondit Jacques. Cette rupture avec Juliette
m'a secoué, je n'en disconviens pas, mais son effet, je pense, n'a
pas été fâcheux : des discussions, des querelles, des scènes de
ménage, cela occupe ; d'ailleurs, je ne laissais pas d'en apprécier le
côté comique. D'autre part, les vacances finies, j'ai repris, au musée,
mes heures de bureau et je trouve un certain bénéfice à travailler
régulièrement, à classer des paperasses, à me promener dans les
salles du Louvre, à préparer une exposition et à réprimander, de
temps à autre, les gardiens… Enfin, je sors beaucoup, je fais la noce,
je fréquente des bars pittoresques et charmants…
— Est-ce bien utile? demanda Gautier d'un air sec.
— Mais oui! comment donc! ce sont des endroits pleins
d'agrément, où l'on s'amuse… en quelle compagnie! Parfois, quand
je rentre au matin chez moi, je dors mieux… pas toujours.
N'importe, Gautier, je ne suis pas solide. Cela m'est à peu près égal,
après tant de nuits blanches, de me sentir les reins brisés : une
randonnée à cheval me fatiguerait de la même manière, mais je
m'habitue mal à un cerveau courbatu… et puis j'ai peur que cela ne
recommence, j'ai peur de revoir cette pomme!
— On tâchera que tu ne la revoies pas, mon ami!
— Ah! Gautier, j'avais si grand besoin de ton retour! Que veux-tu!
les bonnes gens que j'ai consultés étaient, je n'en doute pas, animés
des meilleures intentions à mon égard, mais ils ne savaient pas, ils
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