A farmer watched a bird building her nest in a heap of branches pruned from the apple tree beside the farmhouse. All day long the bird toiled; in the evening the farmer destroyed the work she had done - scattering the tiny twigs about and trampling them beneath his feet. The next day the bird, undaunted, began her building once again. Again at evening time her work was destroyed. Judged by the feeble standards of the bird, ignorant of all beyond the cycle of her instincts, the man was cruel and not to be called good.

A spring comes forth from the side of a hill - clear, cold, limpid, and containing a certain metal content from the earth. As the stream flows down through the countryside it becomes polluted. Each time man builds on its shores the stream becomes more foul. If it passes through a village or town it becomes undrinkable; if it passes through a city, it bears the germs of death for anyone who drinks of it. Yet there are traces of its original state for the chemical analysis still shows the presence of the original values. Even in its depraved state the stream still has its uses...