Sufferings from Drought 



small brown spines, that disappear at your A 

 roots, are the first drops of a rising tide '* 

 that is to bury your bright blossoms, and 

 strangle your weedy growth. For a few 

 years to come you may preen yourselves 

 upon the hillside, but the tiny seedlings 

 below are rising higher and higher, wider 

 spread their green arms, thicker falls the 

 brown shower, which at first nourishes 

 your gaudy uselessness, but at last shall 

 arise and overwhelm it forever. The gay 

 and trivial have their little day of sunshine 

 and triumph, but the strong roots of seri- 

 ous vigor endure when the sunlight fails, 

 and the winter winds blow. Everything in 

 the lower is typical of the higher life, and 

 the ephemeral for a time seems brighter 

 and stronger than the eternal ; but not 

 forever. Though speed may tell in a 

 short race, it is bottom that wins the long 

 ones, and it is the patient who inherit the 

 earth. 



This is the great lesson of the forest, the The lesson 

 philosophy it plants in him who nourishes 

 it and awaits its growth. In the faint rus- 

 tle of the tiny leaflets I hear the murmur, 

 " Wait ! " and as I wander under the 

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