"I would rather not live at all," said Rose, her pretty lips black with huckleberries, which indeed was the case with the whole party. "You yourself, Mr. Herder, that is your happiness -- to find out truth, as you say -- to advance science and learning and do good to other people; you find your own pleasure in it." "Yes, Mr. Herder," chimed in Rose, -- "don't you love flowers and stones and birds and fishes, and beetles, and animals -- don't you love them as much as we do dogs and horses? -- don't you love that little black monkey you shewed us the other day?" "No, Miss Rose," said the naturalist, -- "no, I do not love them -- I do not care for them; -- I love what is _back_ of those things; dat is what I want." "And that is your pleasure, Mr. Herder?" "I do not know," said the puzzled naturalist, -- "maybe it is -- if I could speak German, I would tell you; -- Wint'rop, you do say nozing; and you are not eating huckleberries neizer; -- what do you live for?" "I am at cross-purposes with life, just now, sir." "Cross?" -- said the naturalist. "Winthrop is never cross," responded Asahel from behind a thick branch of huckleberry. "Dat is to the point!" said Mr. Herder. "Well, speak to the point," said Rufus. "I think the point is now -- or will be presently -- to get home." "But to the first point -- what should a man live for?" "It's against the law to commit suicide." "Pish!" said Rufus. "Come tell us what you think, Wint'rop," said Mr. Herder. "I think, sir, I should live to be happy." "You do!" said the naturalist. "And I think happiness should be sought in doing all one can, first for oneself, and then for other people." "That will do," said Mr. Herder. "I agree wiz you." "_You_ are not apt to do first for yourself," said Rufus, with a tender sort of admission-making. "I am not sure that first for oneself," said the naturalist musing. "Yes sir -- or could one ever do much for the world?" "Dat is true; you are right!" "Then at any rate one is to put other people's happiness before one's own?" said Elizabeth with a mixed expression of incredulity and discontent. "It does not seem just reason, does it?" said Mr. Herder. "It's what nobody acts up to," said Rose. "O Miss Cadwallader," said Asahel, -- "mother does it always!" For which he was rewarded with an inexpressible glance, which lit upon nothing, however, but the huckleberries. "Is that your doctrine, Mr. Winthrop?" said Elizabeth. "No," he said smiling, -- "not mine. Will you sit a little more in the corner, Miss Elizabeth? --" Elizabeth took up her book again, and gave no token of attention to anything else, good or bad, till the boat neared the rocks of the landing at Shahweetah. CHAPTER XI. Thou art a dew-drop which the morn brings forth, Ill fitted to sustain unkindly shocks, Or to be trailed along the soiling earth. WORDSWORTH.