feel this more and more, as I consider the
service which the flowers and trees, which man was at first appointed
to keep, were intended to render to him in return for his care; and
the services they still render to him, as far as he allows their
influence, or fulfils his own task towards them. For what infinite
wonderfulness there is in this vegetation, considered, as indeed it
is, as the means by which the earth becomes the companion of man--his
friend and his teacher! In the conditions which we have traced in its
rocks, there could only be seen preparation for his existence;--the
characters which enable him to live on it safely, and to work with it
easily--in all these it has been inanimate and passive; but vegetation
is to it as an imperfect soul, given to meet the soul of man. The
earth in its depths must remain dead and cold, incapable except of
slow crystalline change; but at its surface, which human beings look
upon and deal with, it ministers to them through a veil of strange
intermediate being: which breathes, but has no voice; moves, but
cannot leave its appointed place; passes through life without
consciousness, to death without bitterness; wears the beauty of youth,
without its passion; and declines to the weakness of age, without its
regret.

And in this mystery of intermediate being, entirely subordinate to us,
with which we can deal as we choose, having just the greater power as
we have the less responsibility for our treatment of the unsuffering
creature, most of the pleasures which we need from the external world
are gathered, and most of the lessons we need are written, all kinds
of precious grace and teaching being united in this link between the
Earth and Man; wonderful in universal adaptation to his need, desire,
and discipline; God's daily preparation of the earth for him, with
beautiful means of life. First, a carpet to make it soft for him;
then, a coloured fantasy of embroidery thereon; then, tall spreading
of foliage to shade him from sun heat, and shade also the fallen rain;
that it may not dry quickly back into the clouds, but stay to nourish
the springs among the moss. Stout wood to bear this leafage: easily to
be cut, yet tough and light, to make houses for him, or instruments
(lance-shaft, or plough-handle, according to his temper); useless, it
had been, if harder; useless, if less fibrous; useless, if less
elastic. Winter comes, and the shade of leafage falls away, to let the
sun warm th