An impressive editorial in the Scientific American of April 5 on “Harnessing Nature” tells us the wonderful things which man has done, the superstitions that he has overcome, by his progress and the accumulation of his experience, and declares that the real harnessing of nature has come in this generation. It refers to our giant steamships, driven across the ocean regardless of stress of wind and water; our railroad trains that span, on their appointed schedules, plain and valley, mighty watercourses, traverse the heart of mountains, and carry priceless freights and millions of people. It cites the great, tower-like buildings piercing the sky at almost a thousand feet in height, and the mighty aqueducts which bring water from the mountains to the cities. And yet it feels constrained to say: “The thoughtful among us well understand that nature has become our beast of burden, not by compulsion, but rather by cheerful submission. Now and again she bestirs herself, and, as if to put us in mind of the fact that, if she will, she is master, not servant—in some hour of ugly temper, she smites us with the full force of her hidden potentialities. Let her activities become only a certain per cent greater than their normal, and disaster, often terrible disaster, sweeps over the very people whom she seemed so faithfully and submissively to serve.” Then, citing San Francisco and the great Western floods and storms, the editor truly says: “In the presence of such a tornado as has recently swept through the Middle West, we must confess to a feeling of absolute helplessness.” The puny power of man against the power of God, perverted, is very small. One little shake of less than a minute would level the mighty towers which man has erected in defiance of the perverted elements in this sinful world. Such things as the mighty storms which have swept the West during the last few months are needed, in a moral way, to help men see their utter littleness, and to lead them to put some trust in a divine Being. And yet how few learn it!