234 



NATURE FOR ITS OWN SAKE 



though from his own door-yard he likes well 

 enough to see the hills in the distance. And 

 in the distance they lie covered with grass 

 and timber, gladdening the eyes that look at 

 them. The cattle go to them in the heated 

 season, as the birds in times of cold and storm, 

 and down their sides of moss and rock run the 

 little streams that keep the valley green and 

 turn the mill-wheels of the factories. They are 

 always beautiful, breaking as they do the horizon 

 line with new forms, new colors, and new lights. 

 And we need not be disquieted about them 

 because they are worn-out mountains and must 

 eventually become flat meadows. True enough, 

 they are passing away. The bare butte of 

 Montana is slowly sinking into a lump of form- 

 less clay because it has no covering to shield it 

 from the elements. The New England hills 

 and the hills of Old England are sinking, too. 

 It is nature's plan to beat down the mountain 

 into the dust of the plain and the sand of the 

 sea-shore; but the plan will take many ages for 

 its fulfilment. To-day the little hills clap their 

 hands and rejoice as in the days of David. 

 They will not disappear until another David 

 comes. 



