scatters his chips over the world; Rain, the giant 

 who is bent on turning these into soil. Consider 

 what power lay in this tongue of ice which licked 

 up the crumbs of the earth; carried Canada into 

 New England and New England into New York, 

 depositing its burden as gently as the petal falls 

 from a rose. 



Boulders are to be considered veterans of glacial 

 times, which carry still the scars of that strenuous 

 day. What tales they have to tell of that mam- 

 moth conflidt, that prehistoric incursion of the 

 Ardtic hosts, but only to very good listeners are 

 they unfolded. You must needs have a sympathetic 

 ear to become their confidant. The unconscious 

 rock assumes dignity in view of its past, as though 

 here were an imprisoned earth-spirit, proceeding 

 thus through the strenuous life to some ultimate 

 freedom. Sermons in stones indeed! A terminal 

 moraine is the most ancient battle-ground of the 

 world. Here are the very heroes themselves, 

 stretched upon the field in imperturbable granite, 

 as certain others were fixed in the heavens as con- 

 stellations. To walk among them is to see in 

 fancy the advent of the wall of ice, mile-highi 

 which buried the primitive jungle forever. Here 

 13© 



