DUST UNTO DUST. 127 



One hears, at long intervals, a tree creak, crack 

 and fall in the pine woods. J Tis probably some snag 

 which the breeze has at last overcome. The noise 

 startles one's soul. 'Tis a weird, uncanny sound. 'Tis 

 unexpected, unlocked for. The creaking of the tree, 

 as its roots are torn asunder, or its fibers broken, is 

 not so appalling as the thud with which it strikes the 

 earth. The latter is eager to once more clasp its form 

 in her embrace ; to have once more the carbon, hydro- 

 gen and oxygen of its bole and branches as part of her 

 bosom. She leaps to receive it. Body of earth meets 

 body of tree with equal fervor. Thud answers thud. 

 'Twill not be long till the juices of decay will rend the 

 fibers of the fallen tree; not long till the elements 

 now composing branch and limb will be scattered 

 far and wide in fit condition to become once more 

 a part of some organic being. The earth is ever 

 eager to receive the dead or worn-out objects to 

 which, in the past, she has given birth. More eager 

 is she to put their bodies into such a shape that the 

 elements can be used again. Thus does our common 

 mother prepare and yield up sustenance for her off- 

 spring. Thus only is she able to renew her progeny 

 to cover her surface with new generations of liv- 

 ing, active forms. 



A little distance from my pine tree I find that these 

 woods have been the scene of a great holocaust within 

 the past few days. Myriads of living forms have 

 been swept to their death by the demon fire. It has 



