THE HAINBOW. 
247 
appears such. A phenomenon of this kind is always 
new, and the very thoughts it may suggest seem new 
also, though they may have passed through the mind 
no end of times before, in the presence of the same 
illusion. It seems almost a profanity to call it an illu¬ 
sion ; nor, perhaps, is it so, strictly: its colours are all 
real, and I can reproduce them by the light of a lamp 
in-doors, by the help of a prism, and see them repeated 
in the crystal drops of the chandelier. But art has nothing 
to match against the rainbow; the spectrum may give 
the prismatic colours, but we must wait for the shower 
and the sun to paint for us the grand aerial bow, touch¬ 
ing the two extremes of the horizon, and apparently 
supporting the heavens on a solid arch, of an order for 
which we have no name. It gives me a better idea of 
the vastness of space than what the astronomers tell of 
the distances of planets and stars ; the mind can grasp 
little without the help of the senses, and I see how vast 
a span nature works in, and how careless she is of inches, 
feet, yards, or miles, when she requires space for the 
exhibition of a picture, for a period of a few seconds, 
which shall overpass the achievements of a thousand 
vears of human art. 
The rustling of a leaf will sometimes start the mind 
into a train of thought; how much more the display 
in the heavens of a spectacle so unsurpassed in beauty? 
It is the apparent extent of the great arc that first rouses 
me from my lethargy, by the feeling of wonder; its 
beauty calls forth my admiration, and I reflect that this 
is a very cheap sight, and may be enjoyed by all who 
choose to look on it, whether they be learned in the lore 
