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Holmes, Oliver Wendell, 1809-1894

"The Professor at the Breakfast-Table"


I think now you know something of this young person. She wants nothing
but an atmosphere to expand in. Now and then one meets with a nature for
which our hard, practical New England life is obviously utterly
incompetent. It comes up, as a Southern seed, dropped by accident in one
of our gardens, finds itself trying to grow and blow into flower among
the homely roots and the hardy shrubs that surround it. There is no
question that certain persons who are born among us find themselves many
degrees too far north. Tropical by organization, they cannot fight for
life with our eastern and northwestern breezes without losing the color
and fragrance into which their lives would have blossomed in the latitude
of myrtles and oranges. Strange effects are produced by suffering any
living thing to be developed under conditions such as Nature had not
intended for it. A French physiologist confined some tadpoles under
water in the dark. Removed from the natural stimulus of light, they did
not develop legs and arms at the proper period of their growth, and so
become frogs; they swelled and spread into gigantic tadpoles.


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