

 ONLY A PEBBLE. 25 



flint; he drinks it in his water, and eats it in his lentils, 

 his beans, and his cabbage. 



But even this does not satisfy the pebble's ambition. 

 He feels his longing towards light for even stones, "the 

 whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain" not yet 

 satisfied. He presses onward, upward, to the great light 

 of heaven, and, at last, by a new union, becomes light 

 itself, bodily, tangible light. 



Phoenician merchants, we are told, in days of old 

 kindled a fire on the sandy shores of Africa, and built 

 a rude hearth of natron, with which they traded. They 

 saw, to their amazement, a beautiful mass, bright and 

 clear, formed in the ashes. The wily merchants carefully 

 gathered the strange pieces and glass was invented. 

 More recent researches have discovered glass in the cities 

 of the dead of old Egypt, and, if there is no error about 

 it, even ancient Nineveh already knew the precious ma- 

 terial. 



Thus the humble pebble became the invaluable medium 

 by which we can let light into the dark night of our 

 dwellings. The poor Esquimaux still builds his miserable 

 hut like the beasts of the field, darkening and Closing all 

 apertures, to keep out snow and rain, frost and ice. 

 Other nations are reduced to thin layers of horn, which 

 allow a faint light to sift through the opaque material, 

 but soon lose even this transparency under the influence 

 of wind and weather. Better fares the contented peasant 

 of Siberia, who gathers the ample stores of mica around 

 his hut, cuts them into small thin panes, and thus enjoys 

 a doubtful light, equally far from the joyous brightness 



