156 LEAVES FROM THE BOOK OF NATURE. 



For every now and then we hear of some new land, 

 fresh from the hands of the Creator, and destined for ages 

 so distant that human knowledge cannot foresee them. 

 Lava streams that have flown from restless craters, begin 

 at last to cool, and life takes possession of them. Tims 

 in the still hot lava of Mount Etna the Indian fig is 

 planted largely by the Sicilians, to render those desolate 

 regions capable of cultivation. It strikes its strong, well- 

 armed roots into the fissures of the black, fiery mass, and 

 soon extends them into every crevice of the rock. Slowly, 

 but with ever increasing force, the tender fragile fibre 

 then bursts the large blocks asunder, and finally covers 

 them with fertile soil and a luxuriant vegetation. At 

 other times vast tracts of sea-bottom are dyked in and 

 drained; a thousand varieties of mosses gradually fill it 

 up, and form by their unceasing labor a rich vegetable 

 mould for plants of larger growth. Or truly new lands 

 are suddenly seen to claim a place upon our globe. An 

 earthquake shakes a continent and upheaves the mighty 

 ocean, until cities crumble into ruins and the proud ships 

 of man are ingulfed in the bottomless depths of the sea. 

 But the earthquake rolls away, the storm rages itself to 

 rest, the angry billows subside, and the holy calm, which 

 is the habitual mood of nature, is restored as if it had 

 never been broken. Only, where yesterday the ocean's 

 mighty swell passed freely, there to-day an island has 

 risen from the bosom of the deep. Vast rocky masses 

 suddenly raise their bare heads above the boiling waters 

 and greet the heavens above. Such was the origin of 

 Stromboli, of St. Helena, and of Tristan d'Acunha. Or 



