The Valley Virginian. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1865-1895, 1876-01-20
Valley Virginian.]
Sleep Of Nature.

MRssRs. EDIToRs-,rhe following selection
is from the pen of a poor mechanic boy; but
afterwards the profound scholar and eloquent
divine, whose body now ''sleeps to be raised
immoual," and whose ''sririt has found per.
petual sumner without oppression of heas."
I hope it will be acceptable, as contribution
to our valuable paper: DELLA.
January IL, 1879.
The winter is the night of vegetable life,
and its IepoSe is not without beauty. True,
the white ground is without variety; the brooks
are dumb the bare trees stretch their naked
limbs up into the biting and frosty air--bnt the
world is only stripped for slumber. The vitsl
forces OF tree and shrub, of meadow and gNrs
den. have only gathered ticmsel, es up and re-
tired to their warm ell ferns-their roots. All
the vast power of the eaIth's vegetable popu-
ation, which produces bread in thousand
forms. which breaks forth into fruits and nuts,
into grass and ossonl, which feeds man and
beast and bird; which runs riot. not fOrit own
sake bat for ours, i'll the summer time-all this
has only retired; it still lives; it is no longer
above the ground, but under it. Walk ont IN
the cold air dlop, in thought, below The frosty
surface of the fields, aud in moment yoti
move amid the life no longer visible abnves
Walk through these groves of roots, swollen
with redundant life. Here is the place OF veg
here life cutldes arL crowds Into happy COM
pany below the reach Of the blast. The thoughts
FIJI feel under their feet the pnsation of pows
erful, though a repressed life. and tread ro-
specially. The grains of earth are the blank.
cts OF the fairest and noblest forms OF life. II
we had eyes OF sufficient sharpness, we might
see i'll the waiting sap the beauties Of the com.
ing spring.
That colorless droplet on the end of yo,,t
peiikuifp is the soul OF a peach blossoms; that
moisture which you wipe from your finger
with your handkerchief might, next spring,
have glowed on your table i'll a strawberry
that mud which you leave Oh the scraper is
possible pink or lily or morning glory. y
earth what a mother thou art. Thou takest
thy children not only on thy bosoni, but ilfte
it, and wrappest them about, not with tiny rxil
nleut, but with thyself. Thou waitest and
watcliest with them. and when the war n season.
comes, thou openest to them thy MYRIAD doors;
rs happy to see their glory and pride in going.
from thine ms as when thine embrace locked
them in security and rocked them to sleep.
Another thought belonging here is, that this
sumber Of nature is power. The ship all sail
and no ballast is gay, perhaps, but weak. She
is not rooted in her eleinentj she does not
press down deep into the water and bring the
watery stays about her sides support. The
tree in summer shoots up, is occupied with its
finery, or bends anXiously under its harveatt
for the supply OF animal wants, but In winter
it grows downward; it nestles. it takes again
and again new hold on the soil, and prepares
to throw out its life in the coming spring.
The winter establishes, the summer exhibits;
the winter writes the sermons, the summer
breaches them; the winter gathers and lh-
creases strength. the summer exerts it for the
joy and the benefit of man and beast; the
winter repairs the broken and dsunantled
chariot of the earth, the summer mounts 1t.
covered with garlands and accompanied BY
music, and finishes a gay drive at the iomely
door of winter.
And if the woo ly life that sleeps around Ia
is resting and strengthening, may it not be 80
with the human >eepers, our friends whom we
thoughtlessly call dead? Sleeps dark-yisayed
brother gives only a profounder sleep. 10 tho
good he gives better than dreams. The spirit
has found u perpetual summer without Cypress
sion OF heat. an'l without needs; and the body,
like wine, is repiling during the years of wait.
ing-t sleeps to be raised Immortal.