house. The weather was beautiful, and they agreed to go and examine the
garden. They found that the seeds had not yet commenced sprouting,
notwithstanding the heavy rains.
"I should have thought that so much rain would have made them come up,"
said Mrs. Seagrave.
"No, my dear," replied Mr. Seagrave; "they require more of the sun than
they will have till the rainy season is nearly over; a few days like
this, and they will soon be above-ground."
"Let us sit down on this knoll, it is quite dry," said Mrs. Seagrave.
"I little thought," continued she, "that I could have been so happy in
a desert island. I thought I should feel the loss of books very
severely, but I really do not think that I could have found time to
read."
"Employment is a source of happiness, especially when you are usefully
employed. An industrious person is always a happy person, provided he
is not obliged to work too hard; and even where you have cause for
unhappiness, nothing makes you forget it so soon as occupation."
"But, mamma, we shall not always have so much to do as we have now,"
said William.
"Of course not," replied Mr. Seagrave; "and then we shall find our
books a great source of enjoyment. I am anxious to go to the other side
of the island, and see what have been spared to us, and whether they
have been much damaged; but that cannot be until after the rains are
over, and we can use the boat again.
"Look at this minute insect which is crawling on my finger," said Mr.
Seagrave, turning to William: "what a number of legs it has!"
"Yes, I have seen something like it in old books. How fast it runs with
its little legs; thinner than hairs - how wonderful!"
"Yes, William," replied Mr. Seagrave, "we have only to examine into any
portion, however small, of creation, and we are immediately filled with
wonder. There is nothing which points out to us the immensity and the
omniscience of the Almighty more than the careful provision which has
been made by Him for the smallest and most insignificant of created
beings. This little animal is perhaps one of many millions, who have
their term of existence, and their enjoyment, as well as we have. What
is it? - an insect of the minutest kind, a nothing in creation; yet has
the same care been bestowed upon its formation: these little legs,
hardly visible, have their muscles and their sinews; and every other
portion of its body is as complete, as fearfully and wonderfully
fashioned, as our own. Such is his will; and what insects we ought to
feel ourselves, when compared to the God of power and of love!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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