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قراءة كتاب In Search of the Unknown

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In Search of the Unknown

In Search of the Unknown

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
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IN SEARCH OF THE
UNKNOWN



BY

ROBERT W. CHAMBERS

AUTHOR OF "THE MAIDS OF PARADISE" "THE MAID-AT-ARMS"
"CARDIGAN" "THE CONSPIRATORS" ETC.


publisher's deco



NEW YORK AND LONDON
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
1904







Copyright, 1904, by Robert W. Chambers.
All rights reserved.
Published June, 1904.












TO
MY FRIEND
E. LE GRAND BEERS

My dear Le Grand,—You and I were early drawn together by a common love of nature. Your researches into the natural history of the tree-toad, your observations upon the mud-turtles of Providence Township, your experiments with the fresh-water lobster, all stimulated my enthusiasm in a scientific direction, which has crystallized in this helpful little book, dedicated to you.

Pray accept it as an insignificant payment on account for all I owe to you.

The Author.








PREFACE


It appears to the writer that there is urgent need of more "nature books"—books that are scraped clear of fiction and which display only the carefully articulated skeleton of fact. Hence this little volume, presented with some hesitation and more modesty. Various chapters have, at intervals, appeared in the pages of various publications. The continued narrative is now published for the first time; and the writer trusts that it may inspire enthusiasm for natural and scientific research, and inculcate a passion for accurate observation among the young.

The Author.

April 1, 1904.










Where the slanting forest eaves,
Shingled tight with greenest leaves,
Sweep the scented meadow-sedge,
Let us snoop along the edge;
Let us pry in hidden nooks,
Laden with our nature books,
Scaring birds with happy cries,
Chloroforming butterflies,
Rooting up each woodland plant,
Pinning beetle, fly, and ant,
So we may identify
What we've ruined, by-and-by.







IN SEARCH OF THE UNKNOWN


IToC


Because it all seems so improbable—so horribly impossible to me now, sitting here safe and sane in my own library—I hesitate to record an episode which already appears to me less horrible than grotesque. Yet, unless this story is written now, I know I shall never have the courage to tell the truth about the matter—not from fear of ridicule, but because I myself shall soon cease to credit what I now know to be true. Yet scarcely a month has elapsed

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