234 
NATURE FOR ITS OWN SAKE 
The 
levelling- 
down, 
though from his own door-yard he likes well 
enough to see the hills in the distance. And 
in the distance they lie covered with grass 
and timber, gladdening the eyes that look at 
them. The cattle go to them in the heated 
season, as the birds in times of cold and storm, 
and down their sides of moss and rock run the 
little streams that keep the valley green and 
turn the mill-wheels of the factories. They are 
always beautiful, breaking as they do the horizon 
line with new forms, new colors, and new hghts. 
And we need not be disquieted about them 
because they are worn-out mountains and must 
eventually become flat meadows. True enough, 
they are passing away. The bare butte of 
Afontana is slowly sinking into a lump of form- 
less clay because it has no covering to shield it 
from the elements. The New England hills 
and the hills of Old England are sinking, too. 
It is nature’s plan to beat down the mountain 
into the dust of the plain and the sand of the 
sea-shore; but the plan will take many ages for 
its fulfilment. To-day the little hills clap their 
hands and rejoice as in the days of David. 
They will not disappear until another David 
comes. 
