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wonderful book it is: our longest chronological, lists. are invisible when compared with this. At Niagara,one of our brooks, you see an ocean of water pouring over the solid limestone into the foaming abyss beneath. At Queenstown, seven miles below, the cataract once was; and the deep channel between the two shows what the water has accomplished, fretting the solid rock through the ages. Though fifty thousand years were probably spent in the work, yet that is but a day in the geologic calendar. But what is this, compared with the record of other brooks? The Colorado has worn a cañon three hundred miles long, and in places more than a mile deep, and for a thousand feet through solid granite. Thousands of centuries must have been employed in the work. These grand brooks are older than Britain and the Druids, Greece and Etruria; older than the mummies; ay, older than Egypt itself, for it is made of the mud that one of these brooks laid down; older than the old serpent and the Christians that made him; older than Noah and his wonderful box; older, indeed, than the Jews and Jehovah," the Ancient of days," their handiwork, or, rather, their headwork. These brooks have been rolling for ages where they now are, doing the work of the world, as they have prepared it for the habitation of mankind.

There is a volume on perseverance in the brooks that many might read with benefit. There was a time when the Gulf of Mexico extended to where Cairo in Illinois now is; and the Mississippi, by patient perseverance, has filled up the Gulf to New Orleans; and it

is destined to annex Cuba to the United States, whether Spain favors the annexation or opposes it. They have carried to their graves in the ocean-depths mountains innumerable, and are now engaged in ferrying down all that remain. Not a day but they lay down part of Mont Blanc and Mount Washington, Cotopaxi and Chimborazo; and ere long, by their aid, the ocean shall roll over the heads of the loftiest peaks. They have made seven miles of fossilliferous rock, and formed the grand continents, on whose surface we dwell; and yet the process by which all this is accomplished is so gradual, that but few are aware of what is going on around them. There is a book on perseverance that it will do you good to read, young man, young woman. Never despair of accomplishing your soul's earnest. wish. The very desire to be and to do indicates the power to be and to do what you desire: a day may do but little, but you have an eternity to operate in. A drop a day would drain the ocean in time; and you need never be discouraged.

I saw a silvery rill descending from the mountain ; clear as crystal were its waters, as it leaped down with tinkling feet on its mission of usefulness and love. "I will stop its babbling," said the Frost, as he laid his cold hand upon it, icy as death; and it staggered and grew still. "I will bury it from sight," said the Snow; and down dropped its fleecy mantle and hid the rill from my gaze. "Alas!" said I, "for the beautiful stream, the envy of the Frost and Snow has destroyed it forever." But while I mourned, the south wind blew with genial breath, the sun looked through the

craggy clouds, the bonds of the rill were broken, snow and ice did but increase its waters, and away danced its waters more merrily than before. On it sped; and wherever it went the trees arrayed themselves in their greenest dresses, they lifted up their heads and waved their banners in its praise; the birds sang to it in their leafy bowers, and the flowers kissed it with their sweet. lips as it ran. But the hills saw it, and they were offended. "Why should we allow this vagrant to roam at large," said they,-"this leveller, this underminer and destroyer of all things old and sacred? Why should we allow it to chafe our sides, and set at defiance the limits set in the days gone by? Let us unite, and crush it forever." So saying, they encircled the brook in their close embrace, and presented a seemingly impassable barrier to its further passage; and again it was lost to my sight. But, though unseen, it was busy as ever, searching every crevice, flowing into every cranny, to find a passage through the frowning hills. "If I cannot get through, I must go over," said the brook. "Ah, ha!" laughed the hills; and they clapped their hands, and said, "Listen to the little fellow. We have stopped his mad career; no more shall he roam among the trees, and disport himself with the flowers; no more shall he remove the moss-grown rocks, invade our sacred retreats, and undermine the foundations of ages: his work is done, his life is ended." But, inch by inch, and foot by foot, the water rose above the woody sides of the hills; and, reaching a valley between two peaks, the hills saw, to their astonishment, the despised brook, now swollen to a river, go

thundering down upon the plain with tenfold power. On it flowed, daily broader, deeper, receiving accessions from a thousand flowing streams, blessing thirsty lands, and administering to man's welfare, till it poured at last its majestic torrent into the all-embracing sea. There is a lesson for thee, my toiling brother. Starting from the mountains of truth-loving endeavor and manly resolve, what though the world's cold scorn falls on thee, and the bitter winds of persecution blow around thee, toil on, live to thy soul's ideal. There are noble hearts beating for thee, glorious rewards awaiting thee. There are no obstacles too high for thee to surmount; the greatest success of which thy soul ever dreamed is guaranteed thee.

But Shakspeare says there are "sermons in stones ; and, while there is time, we must look at some of these. You would never forgive me if I did not give you some of these sermons. These "hard-heads," as the bowlders have been called, are old heads and wise heads, and no less eloquent. They preach the longest, the truest, the wisest of sermons. These ministers of Nature are expounding continually,

With magical eloquence, day and night,
Denouncing the wrong, upholding the right,

by the road-side, in the swamp, in the foaming stream, and the ploughed field. They preached to the Indian, as he stealthily stole by to shoot the deer at the lick, as they had done to the dumb savages, his ancestors, who had not learned to form the rudest of implements for the chase. These preachers never stammer nor

cough; they never rave nor rant; they never lie to please a congregation, or for the glory of God, as I'm afraid some of our gospel preachers do; they never get drunk nor blush for their record: they invariably tell the truth, and that is just what we need; and their bold, outspoken utterances have spoiled a thousand barrels. of orthodox sermons in Massachusetts alone. Would that we were more awake to their glowing utterances! When Shakspeare was living, geology was unknown. What wondrous sermons have been preached by the stones since his time, that have set the world a-thinking! Werner, Hutton, Bakewell, Buckland, Lyell, Mantell, Miller, and hosts of others listened to them, took notes of their discourses; and their rough notes, far from verbatim reports, have re-created the world, and bid fair to re-create the next. How silly the Genesical fable of creation appears in the light which their utterances reveal, — the six days of fatiguing labor of the Almighty Mechanic, dust-made grandfather Adam, and bone-made grandmother Eve, the chatting snake, and the cursing God! In these sermons that the stones preach, there is no God complacently congratulating himself on the success of his week's work, and, in a few days, cursing like a demon because his plans have been frustrated. What a story is that to be rehearsed in the nineteenth century, with the words of these stones ringing in our ears! There rolls the ruddy planet, as it came from the glowing furnace of the sun, a spirit within its concentrated fire-mist presiding over it, and able to produce, when conditions permit, plant and bird, beast and man. We see the solid rock, as the

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