414

THIRTI ETH EVENING.

 

EARTIV AND HER CILILDREN.

Ix a certain district of the globe, things one year
went on so ill, that almost the whole race of living
beings, animals and vegetables, carried their lamenta-
tions and complaints to their common mother, the
Karth.

First came Afan. “ O Earth,” said he, “ how can vou
behold unmoved the intolerable calamities of your fa-
vourite offspring! Heaven shuts up all the sources of
its benignity to us, and showers plagues and pestilence
on our heads—storms tear to pieces all the works os
human lebour—the elements of fire and water seem
let loose to devour us—and in the midst of all these
evils, some demon possesses us with a rage of destroy-
ing one another; so that the whole species seems
doomed to perish. O, intercede in our behalf, or else
receive us again into your maternal bosom, and hide
us from the sight of these accumulated distresses !”’

The other animals then spoke by their deputies,
the horse, the ox, and the sheep. “O pity, mother
Earth, those of your children that repose on your
breast, and derive their subsistence from your fruit-
ful bosom! We are parched with drought, we are
scorched by ightning, we are beaten by pitiless tem-
pests, salubrious vegetables refuse to nourish us, we
languish under disease, and the race of men treat us
with unusual rigour. Never, without speedy suecour,
can we survive to another year.”

The vegetables next, those which form the verdant
carpet of the earth, that cover the waving fields of
harvest, and that spread their lofty branches in the
air, sent forth their complaint. “O, our general