CHAPTER VII. 
THE PHCENIX. 
The drama is complete. From the gray or blackish 
mummy which just now lay before you dried and 
shrivelled, you see the new creature, the resuscitated, 
the phoenix, blithely escaping, to shine resplendent 
in all the glory of youth. 
The very reverse of our destiny: commencing 
with bright and butterfly days, in 
later life we crawl and languish; 
while the insect commences with 
years of gloom, and from a long life 
of obscurity emerges into the youth 
in which it dies glorified. 
Let us be present at this departure. The warm breath of spring 
