HORIZON LINES 



forces against one another. Her flowers, her birds, her 

 sunsets, her rainbows, her waterfalls, her mountain 

 lakes, her ocean-shores, her midnight skies, at times 

 move us and lift us above ourselves. On the other 

 hand, there are times when we frown upon her, or 

 despitefully use her and call her hard names. When 

 her storms or her frosts or her blights or her droughts 

 or her insect hordes destroy our crops, or lay waste 

 our forests or sweep away our buildings or kill our cat- 

 tle or inundate our towns and villages, we instinc- 

 tively look upon her as our enemy, and, so far as we 

 are able, arm ourselves against her. Emerson speaks 

 of Nature as that "terrific or beneficent force." It 

 is both. Indeed, we may use a stronger adjective 

 and say that at times it is a malevolent force. 



We ascribe all our human qualities and traits to 

 Nature. Indeed, we can hardly speak of her without 

 personifying her. As we are a part of her, how can 

 we fail to see our own traits in her? At least, how 

 else can we interpret her except in terms of our own 

 being? Early man did this entirely. All the natural 

 forces and appearances took on his own image, and 

 were for or against him. When we seek to interpret 

 Nature we still do it in the terms of literature, of 

 poetry. We humanize her, which means, of course, 

 that we interpret ourselves. Nature reflects the 

 spirit we bring to her. She ic gay, somber, beautiful, 

 winsome, repellent, wise or foolish, just in the de- 

 gree in which we ourselves are capable of these emo- 



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