The Monmouth inquirer. [volume] (Freehold, N.J.) 1865-1933, 1906-10-18

by the mice. The manger 1tSen is In
fearful state. The oxen in nosing for
their food have scattered 1t every
where. "Oh, dear" exclaims the farm
er, .just look at that barn. Did you
ever see such a mess? 1t is work, work,
work; clean, clean clean. never finish
fixing up the barn one day, but have
to go to work and fix it all up again
the next" "'Tis true that what you
say is hard" answers the wisest of all
men But, farmer, remember that you
cannot have tidiness and cleanliness If
you have oxen, and If you did not have
any oxen you could not pillow your
fields and could not SOW your grain and
could not receive any financial return
from your lands" Thus King Solomon
says to us today: Friend, sometimes it
is best to have disorder Sometimes 1t
Is best to have an upheavaL Where no
oxen are, the crib is clean; but the dis
order you deplore and the increase Of
property you rejoice In are inseparable
from the presence of the OK, and you
cannot have one without the other"
A valuable practical lesson Is this
thought for almost every department
of life. In the first place, it will apply
to the disorders of the natural world.
Some people, If they could have their
way. would never have a rainstorm.
They would never have a blizzard
They would never have the trees rob
bed Df their leaves. They would never
have them stand In uniform of spot
less white, like grim soldiers with their
bayonets of Ice as sharp pointed as
Roman spears. They would never have
the wagon wheels sink hub deep in
mud or the robins and the thrushes fly
away from the New England hills to
the land of the flowers. They would
always have their orchards heavy laden
with grass, and their gardens crowded
with incense waving flowers, and their
wheatf1elds with their ripened grain,
making the valleys look like a banquet
hall Of gold, and the blue heavens I'M
blackened by one dark cloud. The sun
for them would send forth a never
ceasing radiance. ''Oh, why should we
have the rain?' they cry why do
the December winds come to make our
teeth chatter and our blood to freezer
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
driz1ling fog or be truly happy when
he has to hug fire in 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 stSrs are
snuffed out by the black robes of
shrieking tornado, and midnoon by an
eclipse of the sun Is changed into the
darkness of midnight
Bad Weather Blessing.
But in the light of my text. are not
atmospheric disorders a blessing? Are
not the frosts and the rafndrops and
the soft white quilts of snow flung over
our lawns and the spring freshets bene-
factors instead of curses? l enter the
silent American forests in January.
There / find everything lifeless and
still. Here and there I may see the
track of doe or d 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. l
go up to one of the grand old trees
and pat its sides and alphabetically
say: poor fellow! How cold you must
be- How you must long again to be
dressed In your beautiful robes Of
these billiards. which chill you and
stop your sap from flowing, as they
are now trying to CONCEAL my blood by
freezing 1t in my veins" But, much
to my surprise, the old oak is not salts
fed with my sympathy. "No no,
manw it answers sharply. 1.-THE frost
is not my enemy, but my friend. 1t
comes to me as lover and puts IT'S
white arms about me and says: Tree,
/ want thee to live a hundred years.
l want thee to grow thousands upon
thousands of leaves. But In order to
do this 1 must husband thy strength.
I 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
my" 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.
1 turn from the forests and enter the
valleys. There I find the corn and the
wheat and the vegetables growing ev-
erywhere 1t is now July instead Of
January. / have foolishly gone out
without my heavy boots and mackin-
tosh. My wife warned me that 1t might
rain when / started out, but needed
not her advice The dark clouds were
evan then Gathering Suddenly there