UNDER THE APPLE-TREES 
In and about Yosemite Valley one sees granite 
blocks of the size of houses and churches split in two 
where they lie in their beds, as if it had been done 
in their sleep and without awakening them. This 
silent quarrying and reducing of the rocks never 
ceases to surprise one. Amid the petrified forests of 
Arizona one marvels to see the stone trunks of the 
huge trees lying about in yard lengths as squarely 
and cleanly severed as if done with a saw. Assault 
them with sledge and bar and you may reduce them 
to irregular fragments, but you cannot divide the 
blocks neatly and regularly as time has done it. 
The unknown, the inaudible forces that make for 
good in every state and community — the gentle 
word, the kind act, the forgiving look, the quiet de- 
meanor, the silent thinkers and workers, the cheerful 
and unwearied toilers, the scholar in his study, the 
scientist in his laboratory — how much more we 
owe to these things than to the clamorous and dis- 
cordant voices of the world of politics and the news- 
paper! Art, literature, philosophy, all speak with 
the still small voice. How much more potent the 
voice that speaks out of a great solitude and rever- 
ence than the noisy, acrimonious, and disputatious 
voice! Strong conviction and firm resolution are 
usually chary of words. Depth of feeling and parsi- 
mony of expression go well together. 
The mills of the gods upon the earth’s surface 
grind exceeding slow, and exceeding still. They are 
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