66 Musings by Camp-Fire and Wayside 



miles and the hours till his sight shall be rid of it. 

 There is nothing in a plain of snow but its cold and 

 its winds. A flood of light forever dazzles the hot 

 sands of Sahara; and yet it is a desolation that 

 overwhelms and prostrates the soul. There must 

 be shadows before that which is light can be light. 



Truth is beauty, and beauty is truth. They are 

 introconvertible forms of moral energy, as are elec- 

 tricity and light. They walk hand in hand among 

 the stars, and in the fields, and in all the realms of 

 being. They are but different expressions of the 

 same thought. Falsehood, however painted, is 

 ugly, and ugliness is false. No man or woman has 

 an ugly face who has a loving and faithful heart. 

 The features may be plain and irregular, and the 

 complexion not clear, and yet the person may pos- 

 sess the highest elements of beauty, and express 

 them. An angry or malicious face is not comely; 

 a kindly beaming and gracious face always is — it is 

 in harmony with us and with its surroundings, and 

 therefore it satisfies the desire for the beautiful. It 

 is one of the experiences which people remark, that 

 a face which at first view appears to be homely, may 

 on acquaintance lose all those lines, and become in 

 the highest degree attractive and charming. 



Nature understands well how to set off her beau- 

 ties with foils of ugliness, and when she sets about 

 creating an ugly thing she leaves no room for com- 

 petition. On a projecting spike of a pine above me 

 sits a squirrel, and at the root of the same squats a 



