LEAF AND TENDRIL 



that the millstones that did the work and are still 

 doing it are the gentle forces that career above 

 our heads — the sunbeam, the cloud, the air, the 

 frost. The rain's gentle fall, the air's velvet touch, 

 the sun's noiseless rays, the frost's exquisite crys- 

 tals, these combined are the agents that crush the 

 rocks and pulverize the mountains, and transform 

 continents of sterile granite into a world of fertile 

 soils. It is as if baby fingers did the work of giant 

 powder and dynamite. Give the clouds and the 

 sunbeams time enough, and the Alps and the Andes 

 disappear before them, or are transformed into 

 plains where corn may grow and cattle graze. The 

 snow falls as softly as down and lies almost as 

 lightly, yet the crags crumble beneath it; com- 

 pacted by gravity, out of it grew the tremendous 

 ice sheet that ground off the mountain summits, 

 that scooped out lakes and valleys, and modeled 

 our northern landscapes as the sculptor his clay 

 image. 



Not only are the mills of the gods grinding here, 

 but the great cosmic mill in the sidereal heavens 

 is grinding also, and some of its dust reaches our 

 planet. Cosmic dust is apparently falling on the 

 earth at all times. It is found in the heart of hail- 

 stones and in Alpine snows, and helps make up 

 the mud of the ocean floors. 



During the unthinkable time of the revolution 

 of the earth around the sun, the amount of cosmic 

 202 



