UNDER THE APPLE-TREES 



In and about Yosemite Valley one sees granite 

 blocks of the size of houses and churches split in two 

 where they lie in their beds, as if it had been done 

 in their sleep and without awakening them. This 

 silent quarrying and reducing of the rocks never 

 ceases to surprise one. Amid the petrified forests of 

 Arizona one marvels to see the stone trunks of the 

 huge trees lying about in yard lengths as squarely 

 and cleanly severed as if done with a saw. Assault 

 them with sledge and bar and you may reduce them 

 to irregular fragments, but you cannot divide the 

 blocks neatly and regularly as time has done it. 



The unknown, the inaudible forces that make for 

 good in every state and community — the gentle 

 word, the kind act, the forgiving look, the quiet de- 

 meanor, the silent thinkers and workers, the cheerful 

 and unwearied toilers, the scholar in his study, the 

 scientist in his laboratory — how much more we 

 owe to these things than to the clamorous and dis- 

 cordant voices of the world of politics and the news- 

 paper! Art, literature, philosophy, all speak with 

 the still small voice. How much more potent the 

 voice that speaks out of a great solitude and rever- 

 ence than the noisy, acrimonious, and disputatious 

 voice! Strong conviction and firm resolution are 

 usually chary of words. Depth of feeling and parsi- 

 mony of expression go well together. 



The mills of the gods upon the earth's surface 

 grind exceeding slow, and exceeding still. They are 



110 



