Note 53 — III

You may trace him oft By scars which his activity has left Beside our roads and pathways, though, thank Heaven, This covert nook reports not of his hand— He who with pocket-hammer smites the edge Of luckless rock or prominent stone, disguised In weather-stains or crusted o'er by Nature With her first growths, detaching by the stroke A chip or splinter—to resolve his doubts: And, with that ready answer satisfied, The substance classes by some barbarous name, And hurries on; or from the fragments picks His specimen, if but haply interveined With sparkling mineral, or should crystal cube Lurk in its cells—and thinks himself enriched, Wealthier, and doubtless wiser, than before! The Excursion, bk. iii.