by the sailors in the attempt to save their lives. It is most
dangerous because it sends no warning ahead of its presence. In crossing
the Atlantic by the more northern routes the other danger is from the
icebergs that may be met in the steamer's path. If a fog obscure the
lookout the boat is slowed down, and a man kept busy with line and
thermometer taking the temperature of the water. The iceberg is kindlier
than the derelict, in the chill it sends out. The presence of the danger
can so be detected, and measures taken to avoid it.

But the great danger here is not simply in the huge mountain of ice that
you see looming up against the sky, great as that is. It is in the unseen
ice. Hidden away below is a mountain of ice twice as large and heavy as
that seen above the water's surface. The danger lies in the terrific force
of a blow from this hidden pile that would crush the strongest steel
steamer, as I might crush an egg-shell in my fingers.

We all admire the beauty of the trees that rear their heads, and send out
their branches, and make the world so beautiful with their soft green
foliage. But have you thought of the twin tree, the unseen tree that
belongs to these we see? For every tree that grows up and out with its
beauty and fruit there is another. The twin tree goes down and out.

Sometimes, as far as this we see goes _up_, the other goes _down_; as far
as the branches go out so far do the underneath branches go out,
sometimes farther. This unseen tree is ever busy drawing moisture, and
food from the soil and sending it, ceaselessly sending it, up to the upper
tree. The beauty and fruitfulness above are because of this secret life of
the tree.

I remember as a boy going to the bathroom in our home one day to draw some
water. But none came. There were a few drops, and some sputtering--there's
very apt to be sputtering when there is nothing else--but no flow of
water. And I wondered why. Soon I found that the main pipe in the street
was being fixed, and the water had been cut off at the curb. There was
water in the pipe clear from the curbstone up to the spigot, but I could
not get it because the reservoir connection under the ground had been
turned off.

I have met some people since then that made me think of that. There is a
reservoir of water, clear and sweet, with which they have had connection,
and are supposed still to have. But when some thirsty body comes up for a
bit of refreshment, there's some sput