If the observer is new to this work, he should endeavour, if possible--on the first occasion at least--to get as companion a friend who has already some experience of field-work. A day with such a companion will do more to open his eyes than a whole chapter of printed hints; for it is as true to-day as it was in 1855, when Charles Kingsley wrote in his "Glaucus"--"The greatest difficulty in the way of beginners is (as in most things) to 'learn the art of learning.' They go out, search, find less than they expected, and give the subject up in disappointment. It is good to begin, therefore, if possible by playing the part of 'jackal' to some practised naturalist, who will show the tyro where to look, what to look for, and, moreover, what it is that he has found: often no easy matter to discover." On that last point the "Wayside and Woodland Series" has done much to simplify matters. Respecting the utility of taking an interest in these fellow inhabitants of our country, one of the intellectual giants[A] of the Victorian Age described Natural History "as the greatest of all sources of that pleasure which is derivable from beauty. I do not pretend," he says, "that natural history knowledge, as such, can increase our sense of the beautiful in natural objects. I do not suppose that the dead soul of Peter Bell, of whom the great poet of nature says-- "'A primrose by the river's brim, A yellow primrose was to him-- And it was nothing more,' would have been a whit roused from its apathy by the information that the primrose is a Dicotyledonous Exogen with a monopetalous corolla and central placentation. But I advocate natural history knowledge from this point of view, because it would lead us to _seek_ the beauties of natural objects, instead of trusting to chance to force them on our attention. To a person uninstructed in natural history, his country or sea-side stroll is a walk through a gallery filled with wonderful works of art, nine-tenths of which have their faces turned to the wall. Teach him something of natural history, and you place in his hands a catalogue of those which are worth turning round. Surely our innocent pleasures are not so abundant in this life that we can afford to despise this or any other source of them. We should fear being banished for our neglect to that limbo, where the great Florentine tells us are those who during this life 'wept when they might be joyful.'" [Footnote A: Huxley.]