The united opinion. [volume] (Bradford, Vt.) 1881-1970, 1906-10-19

| the December winds come to make our
teeth chatter and our blood to freeze
Why do we have the spring freshets
wash out our roads and sweep away
our country bridges? Why all this dis
order and confusion in the natural
world? No man can worship God in
drizzling fog or be truly happy when
he has to hug a fire in a house which
has to be Theoretically sealed to keep
out the winters biting blasts" Thus
we hear the weather pessimists COM
plain when the country roads are i'm
passable with snowdrifts, and the ice
has to be broken in the drinking
troughs, and the twinkling stars are
snuffed out by the black robes OF a
shrieking tornado, and midnOon by an
, eclipse of the sun is changed into the
darkness of midnight.
Bad Weather n Blessing.
But in the light of my text, are not
atmospheric disorders a blessing? Are
not the frosts and the raindrops and
the soft white quilts Of snow flung over
our lawns and the spring freshets Dene-
factors instead of curses? ! enter the
silent American forests in January
There l find everything lifeless and
still. Here and there | may see the
track of a doe or wild rabbit. There
I may hear once in awhile squirrel
chattering and scolding at me. But for
the most part the paths of the woods
are deserted and everything is still.
60 up to one of the grand old trees
and pat it's sides and sympathetically
say: Poor fellow! w,cold you must
be. How you must long again to be
dressed in your beautiful robes OF
green How bitter you must feel at
these billiards. which chill you and
stop your sap from flowing, as they
are now trying to CONCEAL my blood by
freezing it in my veins" But, much
I to my surprise, the old oak is not salts
fed with my sympathy. mo, no,
man!' it answers sharply. "The frost
is not my enemy, but my friend. 1t
comes to me as a lover and puts its
white arms about me and says: Tree,
l want thee to live hundred years.
| want thee to grow thousands upon
thousands of leaves. But in order to
do this | must husband thy strength.
must give thee an annual rest.
must enrich the soil where thy roots
are buried. Trust me. Believe me.
am thy friend for the deeper | pile the
snowbanks about thy trunk the richer
the food thou shalt have to live upon
when the warm summer sun comes
back from its journey on the other side
of the equator and kisses thy cheeks
The frost is my friend and not my enc
N.Y." When the tree speaks thus, in
stead of condemning winter blizzard,
thank God for the winters cold as
well as the summers heat.
The Necessity of Rain.
l turn from the forests and enter the
valleys. There | find the corn and the
wheat and the vegetables growing ev-
erywhere. 1t is now July instead Of
January. l have foolishly gone out
without my heavy boots and mackin'
tosh. My wife warned me that it might
rain when l started out, but l needed
not her advice. The dark clouds were
even then gathering. Suddenly there
sounds a muttering of thunder. Then
the lightnings flash and tree is shat
tered by my side. Then comes the rain
falling in a perfect deluge. The rain
does not matter much to me, because |
know that if | walk briskly and keep
nv blood in circulation | shall not
catch cold But the poor flowers! The
poor grain! The poor corn! They seem
to be almost human. They seem to
hang their heads as though they do not
want the water to spatter into their
faces. Poor things, poor things! |
say. But almost instantly a mighty
chorus of protest sounds from the
fields. eve are not poor things" they
answer. I'VE are parched, and God
has sent us this rain to quench ou1
thirst. We are filthy, and God has sent
us this shower bath to cleanse us. We
would die of hunger, but God, by this
rain. has swelled the brooks until they
come leaping down the mountain sides
to irrigate the valleys that our food
may be mostened so that our roots can
suck it up. God has sent us this atmos-
strong and feed a hungry world. The
rain is Just as essential to our lives as
the sunbeam" Wonderful and true an.
swer that. When | tramped home
did not find fault with my wet gar.
ments. / knew that the rain, as truly
as the sunshine, was sent as a messen.
ger of divine love. "Where no oxen
al l,,f oh, Ia,
crease is by the strength of the OK
Do you not grasp the sublime proverb
as applied to the physical or natural
life?
But we can have "a stagnating cos
mos" in our mental life as well as in
our physical or lower entities. The
man who physically basks under the
summer sun, who never wishes to dc
any manual labor, who always sits
down in preference to standing up and
rides instead of walks; the man who
never takes any more active exercise
than walking upstairs to his bed and
who never feels the eXhilaration of q
pedestrian expanding his chest against
the beating winds, either becomes q
physical degenerate or is foolishly sign
ing his own death warrant. On the
other hand, the man who simply allows
his brain to lie fallow, who never de
velops ks mind, who never studies
who never struggles up the mountain
heights of thought, as the Alpine
climber pants and pushes and pulls
himself up the crags of the Matter
horn, is a man who becomes a menta
degenerate. 1t is only by work, only by
discouragements, only by shutting the
teeth and bracing the will and pushing
ahead, that the chaotic conditions Of
the mental realm can be evolved int