12 LEAVES FROM THE BOOK OF NATURE. 



into the very heart of the earth; there he breaks through 

 wall and rampart, and forces the rich metal from its an- 

 cient home to toil an humble slave in the service of man. 



And is there no romance in the poor pebble's life the 

 only life on earth that all science of men cannot trace to 

 its first beginning 1 The pebble was born when God made 

 heaven and earth. The same hills, the same mountains, 

 have covered the land from the day that man looked with 

 awe upon the "everlasting hills." Nations have passed 

 away, and races have vanished from among us, but even 

 the pyramids stand yet in ancient glory and defy the 

 power of ages. The mighty empires of the Pharaohs and 

 the Ptolemies have fallen before the enemy; the laws of 

 the Medes and the Persians, that changed not, are for- 

 gotten; the hut of the Arab and the palace of the con- 

 queror have alike crumbled into dust but the unchanging 

 rocks rise still high and unbroken from the midst of 

 ruins. 



And yet even mountains are not everlasting, and rocks 

 not eternal. What would be their life without a change, 

 and what their existence without a struggle? Even the 

 poor pebble has thus a life of his own, rich in adventure, 

 lofty in its character, and glorious in its end. 



We see the pebble only as it lies sullen and silent 

 near the bank of a brook, perhaps amidst high luxuriant 

 tufts of grass that grow in his shade, and feed on his life's 

 marrow. Around him, on the overhanging banks, stand 

 bright-colored flowers and gaze, with maidens' vanity, upon 

 their image in the crystal waters below them. All around 

 him is life and motion. On the wings of the tempest the 



