

THE LIGHT. 



THE NIGHT. 



"Light! more light!" Such were the last words of 

 Goethe. This utterance of expiring genius is the general 

 cry of Nature, and re-echoes from world to world. Wliat 

 was said by that man of power — one of the eldest sons of 



God is said by His humblest childi-en, the least advanced in 



MJ\ the scale of animal life, the molluscs in the depths of ocean; 

 ' Ify ■ they will not dwell where the light never penetrates. The 

 ^W flower seeks the light, turns towards it; without it, sickens. Our 

 iffu fellow-workers, the animals, rejoice like us, or mourn like us, 

 ji j according as it comes or goes. My grandson, but two months 

 H* old, bursts into tears when the day dechnes. 

 I "This summer, when walking in my garden, I heard and I 



saw on a branch a bird singing to the setting sun; he inclined him- 

 self towards the light, and was plainly enchanted by it. I was equally 

 charmed to see him; our pitiful caged birds had never inspired me with 

 the idea of that intelligent and powerful creature, so little, so full of 



