Democratic messenger., 1906-10-20

hcG their leaves They would never
has l.. IN stand IN Il uniform Of spot
less white. like grim soldiers with their
bayon"ts 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 thruslIes ny
away from the New England hills to
the land Of the flowers They would
always have their orchards heavy laden
with fruits, aud their lawns covered
with grass. and their gardens crowded
with incense waving flowers. and their
whcatfields with their ripcncd grain.
making the valleys look like n banquet
hall of gold. and the blue heavens un.
blackcned 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 10 make our
teeth chatter and our blood TO freezer
Why do we have the spring freshets
wash out our roads ana sweep away
our country bridges? Why all this dis.
order and confusion In the natural
drlzzing fog or be- truly happy when
he has Ia hug n fire in house which
has 10 he hcrmetically sealed 10 keep
out the winters biting blasts" Thus
we hear the weather pessimists com
plain when the country roads are Inn
paSSable with snowdrfts. and the Ice
has 10 be broken in the drinking
fFnt MI TN
snuifcd out by the black robes OF
shricklng tornado and midnoon 10y an
eclipse of the sun is changed into the
darkness of midnight
Had Weather "a blessing.
But In the light OF my text. are not
atmospheric disorders blessing! Are
not the frosts and the raindrops and
the soft white quilts of snow flung over
our lawns and the spring freshets bene
factors instead of curses; enter the
silent American forests In January
There | find everything lIfeless aud
still. Here and there | may see the
track of Il doe or n wild rabbit There
| may hear once in awhile a squirrel
chattering and scolding 1T me But for
the most part the paths OF the woods
are deserted and everything is still
90 up to one of the grand old trees
and pat its sides and sympathetically
say: Poor fellow. How 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 hliZzardS which chill you and
stop your sap from flowing rs they
are now trying 10 CONCEAL my blood by
freezing il in my veins" but. much
to my surprise. the old oak is not salts
fed with my sympathy. NO. no.
man" il answers sharply. The frost
Is not my enemy. but my friend. 1t
comes TO me as Il lover and puts It's
white arms about me and says: Tree
! want thee 10 live Il hundred years
want thee 10 grow thousands upon
thousands OF leaves. But in order 10
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
snowhanks 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 coudemning Il winter blizzard,
| thank Cod Tor the winters cold as
well as the summers heat.
The Necessity of Rain.
| turn from the forests and enter the
valleys. There | find the corn and the
wheat and the vegetables growing ev-
erywhcre II is now July instead OF
January. have foolishly gone out
without my heavy boots and mackln-
tosh My wife warned me that II might
rain when | started out, but | needed
not her advice The dark clouds were
even then gathering. Suddenly there
sounds Il 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 IL walk briskly and keep
my blood in circulation | shall not
catch cold But the poor flowers. The
poor grain! The poor corn. They seem
10 bc almost human They seem TO
hang their heads as though they do not
want the water 10 spatter into their
faces. Poor things. poor things"
say. But almost instantly mighty
chorus Of protest sounds from the
fields. I'VE are not poor things" they
answer. We are parched. and God
has sent US this rain Ia queneh our
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 swclled the brooks until they
come lcaplng down the mountain sides
10 lrrigate the valleys that our food
may he moistencd so that our roots can
suck II up. God has sent us this atmos-
phcric disorder that we may grow
strong and feed II hungry world. The
rain IL just as essential To our lives as
the sunbeam" Wonderful and true an-
swcr that When | tramped home
did not find fault with my wet gar