UNDER THE MAPLES 



The demons that destroy him are on his side when 

 he strikes with the strength which they give him. 

 Gravity, which so often crushes and overthrows 

 him, is yet the source of all his might. The fire 

 that consumes his towns and cities is yet the same 

 fire that warms him and drives his engines across 

 the continent. 



There is no god that pities us or weeps over our 

 sufferings, save the god in our own breasts. We 

 have life on heroic terms. Nature does not baby 

 us nor withhold from us the bitter cup. We take 

 our chances with all other forms of life. Our special 

 good fortune is that we are capable of a higher de- 

 velopment, capable of profiting to a greater extent 

 by experience, than are the lower forms of life. 

 And here is the mystery that has no solution: we 

 came out of the burning nebulae just as our horse 

 and dog, but why we are men and they are still 

 horse and dog we owe to some Power, or, shall 

 I say, to the chance working of a multitude of 

 powers, that are beyond our ken. That some 

 Being willed it, designed it, no; yet it was in some 

 way provided for in the constitution of the world. 



THE END 



