THE WIND IS A DEMON IN CHAINS
The wind, for instance, is a demon in chains. At times it breaks its
fetters and rushes on in mad fury, rending and destroying, and sweeping
such trifles as cities and those who dwell therein to common ruin.
Sunshine and rain are subject to like wild caprices. The sun may pour
down burning rays for weeks and months together, scorching the fertile
fields, drying up the life-giving streams, bringing famine and misery
to lands of plenty and comfort, almost making the blood to boil in our
veins. Its antithesis, the rainstorm, is at times a still more terrible
visitant. From the dense clouds pour frightful floods, rushing down
the lofty hills, sweeping over fertile plains, overflowing broad river
valleys, and, wherever they go, leaving terror and death in their path.
We may say the same of the alternation of the seasons. Summer, while
looked forward to with joyous anticipation, may bring us only
suffering by its too ardent grasp; and winter, often welcomed with like
pleasurable anticipations, may prove a period of terror from cold and
destitution.
Such is the make-up of the world in which we live, such the vagaries of
the forces which surround us. But those enumerated are not the whole.
Can we say, with a stamp of the foot upon the solid earth, "Here at
least I have something I can trust; let the winds blow and the rains
descend, let the summer scorch and the winter chill, the good earth
still stands firm beneath me, and of it at least I am sure?"
Who says so speaks hastily and heedlessly, for the earth can show itself
as unstable as the air, and our solid footing become as insecure as the
deck of a ship laboring in a storm at sea.
Pages:
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232