54 
••LIGHT! MORE LIGHT. 
Then, round their airy palaces they fly 
To greet the sun : and seized with secret joy. 
When storms are overblown, with food repair 
To their forsaken nests, and callow care." 
" llIE SWALLOW SKIMS THE KIVEIt's WATEBY FACE " 
" See," says Mr. St. John, au accurate observer, " how at morning 
time they hail the rising sun, and at evening faithfully congregate to 
watch it setting on our Scottish shores. Towards evening, the heath- 
cock, that he may see it all the longer, stands on tiptoe, and balances 
himself on the branch of the tallest willow." In connection with this 
subject, we cannot refrain from quoting a gi'aceful little idyll, or idyllic 
episode, which occurs in Michelet's La Peuple : — 
"'Light! more liglit!' Such were the last words of Goethe. 
This utterance of expiring genius is the general cry of Nature, and re- 
echoes from world to world. What was said by that man of power 
is said by God's humblest children, the least advanced in the scale of 
animal life, the molluscs in the depths of ocean ; they will not dwell 
where the light never penetrates. The Hower seeks the beam, and 
turns towards it; without it, sickens. Our fellow-workers, the 
animals, rejoice like us, or mourn like us, according as it comes 
or goes 
" This summer, when walking in my garden, I heard and I saw on 
a branch a bird singing to the setting sun. He bent towards its rays, 
