THE AQUARIUM, JULY, 1896. 



59 



our charitable societies of many of their 

 cares if they would only take this provi- 

 dent little fellow as an example. But 

 the lengthening shadows warn us to re- 

 trace our steps ere the dark pall of 

 night settles over mountain, valley, 

 tree and stream. The fogs are rising 

 in the meadows, a thin white light of 

 vapor marks with well-defined outline 

 the course of some stream flowing 

 through them. Long before we reach 

 home the curtain is raised that con- 

 cealed the celestial host ; those fires 

 that glow forever and yet are not 

 quenched. There they move as they 

 moved and shone when " the morning 

 stars sang together and the sons of God 

 shouted for joy." It was the same 

 blue-spangled dome on high, above old 

 Rome, when she rioted in all her mag- 

 nificence and luxury. The "shepherds 

 who watched their flocks by night ;" 

 the Magi, whose knowledge of the 

 heavenly host was more enlarged than 

 any others of their time, were warned 

 to study that living page for a light to 

 guide them to the expected Messiah. 



The Arab, as he traveled the bound- 

 less fields of sand, with his trusty 

 camel — the "ship of the desert — " trust- 

 ed of old to those burning orbs, for 

 they alone were his chart and his com- 

 pass. Beyond the grasp of poor, frail 

 man, they light him from the cradle to 

 the sepulchre. Their beams are shed 

 upon his monument, until that, too, is 

 crumbled away, and no token remains 

 to point the spot where his ashes lie. 

 Could a voice be heard from their blue 

 home, doubtless it would speak of a 

 race that has passed from this conti- 

 nent long ere the canvas of Columbus 

 was furled upon these shores — a race 

 that preceded the Indian ; a people 

 whose remains are yet among us, but 

 whose history lies deep in oblivion. 



All on earth has changed ; but the 

 glorious heavens yet remain un- 

 changed ; SU71, moon, planet and satel- 

 lite, stars and contellations, galaxy and 

 nebulae, still bear witness to the Power, 

 the Wisdom, and the Love, which 

 placed them of old, and still sustains 

 them where they are. 



And now, our ramble over, we feel 

 we have associated ourselves more 

 closely with nature and her Mighty 

 Master— God. The materials with 

 which that Eternal Power writes His 

 name may vary, but the style of the 

 handwriting is the same. And whether 

 in illuminated characters He paints it in 

 the field, or in the starry alphabet bids 

 it flame forth from the face of the 

 firmanent ; whether He works in the 

 curious mosaic of a shell, or inscribes 

 it in Hebrew letters on tables of stone ; 

 devotion recognizes its Heavenly 

 Father's hand, and admires with rever- 

 ence His matchless autograph. 



In conclusion, let me impress upon 

 the minds of all how everything in na- 

 ture daily speaks to us in the plainest 

 language, points out to ns in its every 

 phase something yet to come — a some- 

 thing unknown, a mighty hereafter. 

 As the swallows homeward fly, their 

 young brood raised, their summer work 

 accomplished, instinct points out to 

 them an unknown land to which to 

 betake themselves from the chills and 

 storms and tempests of winter. Some- 

 thing, we know not what, tells them 

 this is not their rest. As the leaves 

 fall off, withered and sere, having done 

 their share in Nature's mighty labora- 

 tory, the tree lies dormant for a time, 

 but only to gain strength to burst forth 

 in fresh beauty at a future time. As 

 the seed is committed to the ground, a 

 dry, shriveled object, to all appear- 

 ance destitute of life, its future form 



