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CHAPTER XXX.
How strange and wonderful is the web of destiny, which is being woven in
our national, provincial and family life, which we poor mortals are
simply the individual strands.
How marvellous it is to look into the seeds of time--yes, and these may
be small as mustard seeds--which are the smallest of all seeds--and see
the bursting of the husks, the peering out of the plumule, the feeding
of the sprout, the struggle through the clods, the fight with frost and
hail and broiling sun, and canker worm and blight, the growth of the
strengthening stem, and then the leaf and blossoms and fruit! We say it
has survived, it becomes a great tree under whose leaves and under whose
branches the fowls of Heaven find shelter. How passing strange it was to
see the seed-thought rise in the mind of Lord Selkirk, that suffering
humanity transplanted to another environment might grow out of poverty,
into happiness and content. See his sorrow as he meets with undeserved
opposition from rival traders, from slanderous agents, from bitter
articles in the press, from Government officials and even police
officers who strive to break up his immigrant parties.
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