



Produced by Aaron Cannon





THE NATURE FAKER

By Richard Harding Davis



Richard Herrick was a young man with a gentle disposition, much
money, and no sense of humor. His object in life was to marry Miss
Catherweight. For three years she had tried to persuade him this could
not be, and finally, in order to convince him, married some one else.
When the woman he loves marries another man, the rejected one is
popularly supposed to take to drink or to foreign travel. Statistics
show that, instead, he instantly falls in love with the best friend of
the girl who refused him. But, as Herrick truly loved Miss Catherweight,
he could not worship any other woman, and so he became a lover of
nature. Nature, he assured his men friends, does not disappoint you. The
more thought, care, affection you give to nature, the more she gives
you in return, and while, so he admitted, in wooing nature there are
no great moments, there are no heart-aches. Jackson, one of the men
friends, and of a frivolous disposition, said that he also could admire
a landscape, but he would rather look at the beautiful eyes of a girl
he knew than at the Lakes of Killarney, with a full moon, a setting sun,
and the aurora borealis for a background. Herrick suggested that,
while the beautiful eyes might seek those of another man, the Lakes of
Killarney would always remain where you could find them. Herrick pursued
his new love in Connecticut on an abandoned farm which he converted into
a "model" one. On it he established model dairies and model incubators.
He laid out old-fashioned gardens, sunken gardens, Italian gardens,
landscape gardens, and a game preserve.

The game preserve was his own especial care and pleasure. It consisted
of two hundred acres of dense forest and hills and ridges of rock. It
was filled with mysterious caves, deep chasms, tiny gurgling streams,
nestling springs, and wild laurel. It was barricaded with fallen
tree-trunks and moss-covered rocks that had never felt the foot of man
since that foot had worn a moccasin. Around the preserve was a high
fence stout enough to keep poachers on the outside and to persuade
the wild animals that inhabited it to linger on the inside. These wild
animals were squirrels, rabbits, and raccoons. Every day, in sunshine
or in rain, entering through a private gate, Herrick would explore this
holy of holies. For such vermin as would destroy the gentler animals
he carried a gun. But it was turned only on those that preyed upon his
favorites. For hours he would climb through this wilderness, or, seated
on a rock, watch a bluebird building her nest or a squirrel laying in
rations against the coming of the snow. In time he grew to think he knew
and understood the inhabitants of this wild place of which he was the
overlord. He looked upon them not as his tenants but as his guests. And
when they fled from him in terror to caves and hollow tree-trunks, he
wished he might call them back and explain he was their friend, that it
was due to him they lived in peace. He was glad they were happy. He was
glad it was through him that, undisturbed, they could live the simple
life.

His fall came through ambition. Herrick himself attributed it to his
too great devotion to nature and nature's children. Jackson, he of the
frivolous mind, attributed it to the fact that any man is sure to come
to grief who turns from the worship of God's noblest handiwork, by which
Jackson meant woman, to worship chipmunks and Plymouth Rock hens. One
night Jackson lured Herrick into New York to a dinner and a music hall.
He invited also one Kelly, a mutual friend of a cynical and combative
disposition. Jackson liked to hear him and Herrick abuse each other, and
always introduced subjects he knew would cause each to lose his temper.

But, on this night, Herrick needed no goading. He was in an ungrateful
mood. Accustomed to food fresh from the soil and the farmyard, he
sneered at hothouse asparagus, hothouse grapes, and cold-storage quail.
At the music hall he was even more difficult. In front of him sat a
stout lady who when she shook with laughter shed patchouli and a man who
smoked American cigarettes. At these and the steam heat, the nostrils of
Herrick, trained to the odor of balsam and the smoke of open wood fires,
took offense. He refused to be amused. The monologue artist, in whom
Jackson found delight, caused Herrick only to groan; the knockabout
comedians he hoped would break their collar-bones; the lady who danced
Salome, and who fascinated Kelly, Herrick prayed would catch pneumonia
and die of it. And when the drop rose upon the Countess Zichy's bears,
his dissatisfaction reached a climax.

There were three bears--a large papa bear, a mamma bear, and the baby
bear. On the programme they were described as Bruno, Clara, and Ikey.
They were of a dusty brown, with long, curling noses tipped with white,
and fat, tan-colored bellies.