I know but one writer whose pen would have been able worthily to set
forth the delights of the first few days at Bodyfauld--Jean Paul.
Nor would he have disdained to make the gladness of a country
school-boy the theme of that pen. Indeed, often has he done so. If
the writer has any higher purpose than the amusement of other boys,
he will find the life of a country boy richer for his ends than that
of a town boy. For example, he has a deeper sense of the marvel of
Nature, a tenderer feeling of her feminality. I do not mean that
the other cannot develop this sense, but it is generally feeble, and
there is consequently less chance of its surviving. As far as my
experience goes, town girls and country boys love Nature most. I
have known town girls love her as passionately as country boys.
Town boys have too many books and pictures. They see Nature in
mirrors--invaluable privilege after they know herself, not before.
They have greater opportunity of observing human nature; but here
also the books are too many and various. They are cleverer than
country boys, but they are less profound; their observation may be
quicker; their perception is shallower. They know better what to do
on an emergency; they know worse how to order their ways. Of
course, in this, as in a thousand other matters, Nature will burst
out laughing in the face of the would-be philosopher, and bringing
forward her town boy, will say, 'Look here!' For the town boys are
Nature's boys after all, at least so long as doctrines of
self-preservation and ambition have not turned them from children of
the kingdom into dirt-worms.
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