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CHAPTER XXX.

ANTICIPATIONS OF MAN IN NATURE.

AKING advantage of a midsummer holiday, suppose we visit the country seat of a friend possessed of ample wealth and cultivated tastes. Arriving at the premises, we find the owner called unexpectedly to the city, but the porter, in obedience to the instructions of the proprietor, proffers us a greeting, and bids us in to the enjoyment of the spacious park. We find the grounds laid out and adorned under the guidance of an educated and generous taste. The graveled carriage-road winds under the leafy umbrage of the ancient oaks, or creeps along beneath the dark shadows of a frowning cliff; and ever and anon a sunny opening in the overhanging foliage lets in the golden light upon the quiet-loving Rhododendron and Azalea. Here a modest footpath saunters down a mimic vale, and leads us, worn and weary, to a rustic summer-house all overarched with honey-breathing Loniceras intertwined with the scandent Cobea and woodland-loving Bignonia. Here are seats provided for the languid visitor; and from the roots of the thirsty beech, whose overreaching branches rib the leafy arch, bursts forth a laughing fountain, while a goblet standing by seems to say, "Here the visitor will be thirsty and warm, and will eagerly refresh himself at the cooling spring." The proprietor of the grounds, though not here in his visible presence, has left here the evidences of his thoughtfulness and expectation of a wearied visitor. Then for the first time we spy what is equally welcome with the cool fountain-a basket of ripe and luscious fruit,

revealing itself, like Heaven's blessings, just at the moment when nothing could be more desired. How well the owner of the premises knows how to minister to the wants and pleasures of his guests! Refreshed, we wander on through a darkly-shaded copse, when a sudden elbow in the footpath brings us to the rock-built doorway of a rustic grotto. The cool lintels are hung with brown and emerald fringes of dew-dripping mosses, and the leaf-strewn portal of the dusky hall reminds us of the cave of the Cumaan Sibyl. The desire to enter this enchanted grotto has been foreseen by the care which provided a flight of half a dozen steps, down which we descend to the damp, chill floor of the Sibylline abode. The long, dim hall before us fades into indistinctness in the distance, like the line of memories receding toward childhood's years; and just as our timid steps are about to be reversed, we espy some matches and a taper resting on a shelf of rock, and, with the light so opportunely provided, explore the length of the charming little cavern.

Emerging from our subterranean exploitation, we visit, in succession, all the remaining nooks and surprises of the well-plotted grounds, and find that every where the thoughtfulness of the proprietor has preceded us, and ushered our coming with the most intelligent preparation. Not the least admirable of the arrangements of his shrewd forecasting is his occasional combination of geometrical figures cut in the turf of a growing grass-plot, or traced in the airy edgings of the most exquisite flower-beds, themselves the achievements of geometrical skill, and adapted specially to please the mind and fancy trained in mathematical forms. The work itself bespeaks a skillful mind, and equally proclaims an expectation of educated guests. This lavishment of learned conceptions is not the mere gamboling of genius for its own amusement. What we

see, and enjoy, and comprehend declares in plainest language not only that the contriver of these grounds possessed superior intelligence, but that he expected intelligent guests to visit, admire, and enjoy them.

This admirably plotted park is the domain of Nature. These dark, umbrageous shades and quiet dells are hers. These winding highways and meandering footpaths are her navigable streams, and lakes, and ocean tides. The rhododendron and azalea were first planted by the hand of Nature, and her fingers taught the honeysuckle to climb the rustic trellis of oaken boughs. Her providence drew forth the crystal fountain beneath the beechen shade, and her foresight laid by the store of coal with which we warm and.light our dwellings.

To be more specific, let the reader imagine that the history of the world had been a scene of never-ending quiet. Suppose a fear of inflicting animal suffering had laid its restraining hand on the volcano and the earthquake; suppose the rocks had not been plowed up, and the deep subsoil of the earth's crust laid over in mountain ridges. I do not ask whether, in the midst of scenes of such monotony, the occasion could ever have arrived for the deposition of the coal. We will assume that it would. I do not ask whether, without eruptions and terrestrial distresses, the precious and the useful metals would ever have been reduced from their ores; we may assume that they would. But where would lie our coal? Buried ten thousand feet from view, man would never have learned of its existence, much less would he have known how to raise it to the surface. See the provision of Nature in breaking up the coalbearing strata and tilting them on edge, as much as to say, "Lo! here is your desire; search not in vain; dig, and be satisfied with warmth; drive forth the hidden energy of the abundant water, and bid the servants furnished to your

hands execute all the behests of your convenience." Had chance formed the beds of coal under such a concurrence of auspicious and beneficent conditions, chance would not have brought it to our doors; chance would not have rescued it from burial beneath the sediments of a thousand following ages; chance would not have laid by in the same beds the ores of iron which the coal is fitted to reduce; chance would not have stored in the same relation the beds of limestone, to be used as a flux in the reduction of the iron ores by means of the mineral coal. See what provident Nature has done with other metals! Was it accident that enriched the upper peninsula of Michigan with her wealth of native copper? Or has there been in existence upon our earth any other being than man to whom these riches possessed the least utility or interest? The ores of copper lie buried a mile beneath the sandstones of the "Pictured Rocks." The sediments of unknown cycles of years were gathered upon the beds of valuable ores. At length, while the world was preparing for man, a fiery outburst threw the deep-buried treasures to the surface. It did more. It reduced their refractory ores for the hand of man, and enabled him to gather directly the native metal. Still more. The same fiery outburst bent the flinty rocks into the form of a huge trough, and Heaven sent down water to fill it and float the steam-sped vessel to the copper-bearing shore. And lastly, lest the manhood of our race should be spent before the discovery of the treasure, all-provident Nature broke up samples of cupriferous rock, and strewed them along the shore, and along the rivercourses, so that, when man should find them, he might trace the trail, as by a clew, to the original store-house of the native metal. And all these preparations, and provisions, and utilities have no relations to any other terrestrial denizen than man.

Nature has mined for us in gold. Deep in the rocky recesses of the earth lay the precious metal. It must be brought to the light of day. But Nature does not do this till the work of sowing sediments-the seeds of rocky growth-has been completed over all the areas destined to be inhabited by man. Had the deep-treasured gold been brought up in the Mesozoic Ages, the inundations and vicissitudes of later times would have scattered it over the breadth of the land and the sea before our race had made its advent. No such false step was taken. It is only after the Tertiary beds have been all deposited that Nature throws up innumerable veins of quartz, which bring along with them the glittering gold. This is well; but Nature possessed a quartz-crushing machine in the shape of a glacier a mile in thickness, and some hundreds, if not thousands of miles in horizontal extent, and this she drew over the projecting veins of auriferous quartz and ground them to powder. These, at least, are the general views put forward by Sir Roderick Murchison in regard to the principal gold regions of the world. The California geologists, however, aver that the great ice-plow never scored the ribs of the Sierra Nevadas. Nature may have pulverized the goldquartz of our Western states and territories by some other agency. Nevertheless, it has been crushed and comminuted on a stupendous scale. When this work was done, by whatever means, she brought her gold-washing machine into requisition, and "jigged" the golden sands till the yellow particles were well assorted, and then strewed them. along the narrow ravines to await the attentions of the coming man.

But we need not go to the golden sands of the Sacramento to read the anticipations of man in the arrangements of Nature. What is every well and spring but a subterranean stream that has been beguiled to light by the out