St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1905-05-31
The Strength Of the Hills.

rwr;tten for the CALIFORNIAN by ]. 3. Harris]
t,At;ds,t those green wilds how many fount
lies cleaning,
Fringed with the Violet' coioureo WITH the
NV boyhood's haunt through days of
r,.d suln Young leaves that shook with melo-
diesp'
Thus Mrs. Hemans. When one comes
IN think of it soberly and seriously, what
better friend or neighbor than tree,
after all'
Who in the afternoon of life canHot
look back in memory to some tree with
valued associations, some grove where
"through days of summer dreaming" of
the great, unknown, mysterious future,
even the leaves seemed to us to tremble
with melodies of the invisible land before
rs? Ali you remember those trees, don't
YOU, on the old place, away back in the
years?
And the trees, like the dolls OF those
DAYS, are always in accord with us.
They are even tempered, sociable, COM
nanionable, cheerful, restful, contented,
eouable. We always know where to
find them, and we always find them the
same. They are alive with the great
group spirit of the world, they haste not
and rest not, always peaceful and serene,
always doing the best they can and re-
ceiving injury and neglect silently and
uncomplainingly. They are Gods child
rem, like the flowers and the birds and
all things to which He has given life.
The forests are very near God, as they
were and are His first temple. The very
spirit of the eternal, uncontaminated, is
in their breath. He is in us, as we are in
Him. Everywhere among the forests of
the everlasting hills, where the discords oil
the world are barred out, we have placed
ourselves in the receptive position which
is essential to feeling the pulsebeat OF the
Universe.
God made the country; man made the
city. Nature is God In objective. The
city is man in objective. As Gods child
rem it is our nature to be natural, to get
nearer nature, to get into the woods.
Everything not natural is artificial. Our
methods OF living are artificial. We feel
It, we realize it, unconsciously, it may be,
but at times the longing to break all
bonds and get out becomes uncontrol-
able.
Under the skin OF high civilization we
find the barbarian, the prehistoric man.
In Jack London's great story, "The Call
of the Wild" finally overcame the civil
lized veneering of years, and dog return
ed to the condition and estate OF a
natural dog. When the instincts OF the
ages become too strong for the average
business man, he locks up and goes off in
the woods for day with gun or rod and
tackle. He spends his vacation in the
woods, avoids the body and soul racking
discords of the maddening crowd and
lives and eats and sleeps with nature.
He returns re-created. He has imbibed
great draughts of the only elixir OF life,
natures tonic to her weary children.
He finds intensely edifying sermons
in stones and books in running brooks.
he chums with the trees, visits heartily
and nightly with the murmuring pines
and hemlocks OF the forest primeval and
his soul is attuned to the melody OF
nature with her thousand notes of song.
At last he is compelled to stop being
natural and 60 home to listen to the
roar of the street and the civilized
melody OF the steam cars.
Like Thoreau l visit with the squirrels
and birds of the fields and forests. Their
conduct is much more interesting to me
than that of a cigarette loafer. They are
industrious, interesting, selfsupporting.
He isn't. They have an object in life. He
is the scum OF civilization. They are
harmless. He is an insuferable nuisance.
They raise families and provide for them.
He-but why follow the comparison.
They are Gods children, pure and unde-
filed. He is the degenerate product OF an
artificial civilization whose inevitable
end is rank vileness.
don't seek the life of anything with a
gun. The birds and little animals never
did me any harm, and / don't know of
any reason why should hunt them to
their death. have no respect whatever
for the man who will hunt and shoot a
human-eyed, inofensive deer, simply to
brag about it at the store or to see his
name in the paper. 1t is very question
able variety of fame that the wanton
murder of such an animal will give a
man. He doesn't need the deer, he only
seeks cheap advertising. May the Lord
have mercy on his little soul!
like to see things live and grow, so l
plant garden. The soil returns to us a
hundred fold for all our efforts. and as a
mighty good friend, it pays we'll to culti-
vate that friendship. No pun intended.
The cultivation of the soil is the noblest
profession on earth. the healthiest for
body and soul. The best citizen is the
man who produces something, the man
who adds bushel of grain or vege-
tables to the store of the world, who
assists nature in uncovering her bounty
to her children, the man who does not
live on the misfortunes or weaknesses or
cupidity of his fellow men, the man who