"He has just shewed you, Miss Rose," said Winthrop; — "in getting the highest huckleberry bush. It don't make him happy — only he had rather have that than another."
"Let us have your sense of the matter, then," said his brother.
"But Mr. Herder," said Elizabeth, "why do you want to find out truth? — what is it for?"
"For science — for knowledge; — that is what will do goot to the world and make ozer happy. It is not to live like a man to live for himself."
"Then what should one live for," said Elizabeth a little impatiently, — "if it isn't to be happy?"
"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?"