A WINDOW-PANE REVERIE. 



I stood by my study window after dark. 

 An electric light a few blocks distant, cast 

 shadows of the small limbs of a tree 

 upon the window-pane. Those shadows 

 were in constant motion because of the 

 wind blowing through the trees. Through 

 the dancing shadows I saw the brilliant 

 light against the darkness of the western 

 sky. My breath condensed into moisture 

 on the cold glass, and through that mois- 

 ture the electric light shone in the center 

 of a brilliantly-colored circle, composed of 

 myriads of pencils of light, radiating 

 from the dazzling central point. As the 

 moisture evaporated the pencils became 

 fewer and coarser, bright lines and frag- 

 ments of lines, rather than pencils. A 

 few breaths on the glass, more moisture 

 condensed and again the pencils were in 

 myriads. I enjoyed the small but bril- 

 liant view in the same spirit in which I 

 enjoy the starry heavens on a grand 

 mountain outlook. 



As I looked I thought of many things. 

 I thought of my own mind with its won- 

 drous thinking machinery ; I thought of 

 my eyes and of their marvelous mechan- 

 ism by which the brain received so much 

 thought-producing material ; I thought of 

 the burning furnace within my body that 

 sent out heated air laden with the in- 

 visible vapor of water ; I thought of the 

 laws of heat and cold by which that vapor 

 was instantly condensed and became vis- 

 ible when it came in contact with the cold 

 glass ; I thought of the transparent glass 

 and of all the changes it had passed 



through since it was a mineral in the 

 primeval rocks ; I thought of the tree with 

 its naked branches whose fibers were be- 

 ing toughened by constant wrestling with 

 the wind ; I thought of the leaves that in a 

 few weeks would cover those twigs and 

 conceal from me the electric light ; I 

 thought of the invisible air with its 

 strange elements and properties, and of 

 the laws of meteorology that produced the 

 wind ; I thought of the electric wire and 

 of the distant copper mines from which it 

 came ; I thought of the mysterious force 

 that we call electricity, of the coal, the en- 

 gine, the machinery, that produce it, and 

 of the light that it produces ; I thought of 

 the mysterious thing that we call light and 

 of the laws of light that gave me those 

 penciled rays ; I thought of the things that 

 were made for "glory and for beauty" as 

 well as for practical utility ; and I thought 

 of God. 



And so, according to such knowledge as 

 I had of psychology, of physiology, of 

 physics, of meteorology, of botany, of 

 mineralogy, of chemistry, of optics, of 

 electricity, of esthetics, and of natural 

 theology, were my thoughts manifold, 

 rich, suggestive, correlated, inspiring, 

 spiritual even, in their last analysis. 



That which to many would be a thing 

 of no interest, a commonplace sight not 

 worth a second glance, was to me full of 

 beauty, tinged with glory, spiritually help- 

 ful, and an occasion for praising and wor- 

 shiping God. 



Roselle Theodore Cross. 



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