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           March24.Thespringisfairlywithusnow.Outsidemylaboratorywindowthegreatchestnut-treeisallcoveredwiththebig,glutinous,gummybuds,someofwhichhavealreadybeguntobreakintolittlegreenshuttlecocks.Asyouwalkdownthelanesyouareconsciousoftherich,silentforcesofnatureworkingallaroundyou.Thewetearthsmellsfruitfulandluscious.Greenshootsarepeepingouteverywhere.Thetwigsarestiffwiththeirsap;andthemoist,heavyEnglishairisladenwithafaintlyresinousperfume.Budsinthehedges,lambsbeneaththem—everywheretheworkofreproductiongoingforward!Icanseeitwithout,andIcanfeelitwithin.Wealsohaveourspringwhenthelittlearteriolesdilate,thelymphflowsinabriskerstream,theglandsworkharder,winnowingandstraining.Everyyearnaturereadjuststhewholemachine.Icanfeelthefermentinmybloodatthisverymoment,andasthecoolsunshinepoursthroughmywindowIcoulddanceaboutinitlikeagnat.SoIshould,onlythatCharlesSadlerwouldrushupstairstoknowwhatwasthematter.Besides,ImustrememberthatIamProfessorGilroy.Anoldprofessormayaffordtobenatural,butwhenfortunehasgivenoneofthefirstchairsintheuniversitytoamanoffour-and-thirtyhemusttryandactthepartconsistently.WhatafellowWilsonis!IfIcouldonlythrowthesameenthusiasmintophysiologythathedoesintopsychology,IshouldbecomeaClaudeBernardattheleast.Hiswholelifeandsoulandenergyworktooneend.Hedropstosleepcollatinghisresultsofthepastday,andhewakestoplanhisresearchesforthecomingone.