18 THE EYE 



nothing but the fine dust, carried through the air by the 

 most gentle breezes ; and these are by no means the waves 

 which chase each other in restless succession through the 

 ether at a speed of more than 190,000 miles in a second. 

 If the natural philosopher could extricate himself from his 

 human nature, and look upon the world around with 

 the eye of science alone, he would behold but a deso- 

 late, colourless and lightless mass, a gloomy and vast piece 

 of clock-work, in which thousands of substances and motive 

 forces were united in an ever-varying dance. 



But let us now look on the fairer reverse of the picture. 

 Night is past ; the vivifying ray of the morning sun comes 

 darting over the distant hills. The verdant meadows glow, 

 warmed by the touch of heavenly light. Here the flower 

 opes her crown of radiant hues to the wished-for elements ; 

 soon flutters the awakened bird his gorgeous plumage 

 through the blue air ; the splendid butterflies caressing 

 swarm around the lovely rose, while close at hand, the 

 busy beetle in his emerald coat creeps up the dusky moss 

 to quench his thirst in sparkling dew-drops. A whole, full, 

 beauteous world of light and radiance, of colours and 

 shapes, lies outspread before us ; every motion is life, is 

 beauty, and beautiful in its freedom. " And I see all," 

 says man, and turns his thoughts in ecstasy to the Giver 

 of all good. But what is this sight ? It is not a percep- 

 tion of what actually exists without. It is a magical 

 phantasmagoria, which the mind itself produces in free 

 creation, guided and restrained only in a wondrous fashion 

 by that which actually exists without, and all unconscious 

 meanwhile of this very actuality. 



When the voyager on the ocean reaches the southern 

 latitudes, the majestic form of the Southern Cross emerges 

 before him from the distant horizon, shining in the deep, 



