of the atmosphere, which we all witness every day;
the fogs and exhalations through which we view the sun are the cause of
that dingy appearance you remark: and even in the summer-time, as the sun
descends, you may perceive he becomes more and more red and dark as he
approaches the horizon. I have therefore no doubt but the veil, or vapoury
substance, of which I speak, is but a little distance from the earth; for I
observe, that as the sun rises into the heavens, he grows more brilliant
from surmounting this veil."

"Did you find this out of yourself, Edmund?"

"I noticed it one day to papa, and he explained it; he told me, too, that
all the beautiful variety of colours which we observe in the setting sun
must be imputed to this cause; he taught me at the same time to distinguish
shadows in the water by reflection, and those which are refracted, and many
other things, which rendered me much more delighted with the country than I
had ever been before, and more fond of dear papa for taking the trouble to
inform me."

"Well then," said Ellen, "when we go down to Richmond next summer, you must
explain every thing to us, and we will love you better than ever, dear
Edmund; and I will say the Ode to Eton College to you in my very best
manner; perhaps Matilda will be able to say it before then, and----"

"Go on, Ellen."

"I want to know--_we_ want to know what it means in that poem, where it
says,

'Grateful Science still adores
Her Henry's holy shade.'

What is a holy shade, Edmund?"

"It is a poetical expression, my dear, meaning that we of the present day
are grateful to the founder, Henry the Sixth, who was a religious, and
probably a learned man, although very unfortunate as a king."

"Oh," cried Ellen, "I remember all about him; he was deposed by Edward the
Fourth, whose two sons were afterwards murdered in the Tower by their
wicked uncle, Richard the Third."

"I remember _that_," said Matilda, timidly, yet with that kind of pleasure
which indicated a sense of approaching her superior in knowledge, and being
sensible that this was the only kind of superiority worth possessing.

Scarcely, however, had she spoken, when Charles, throwing himself into a
theatrical attitude, exclaimed--"Ay! but do you remember the man that
looked like _him_--to this same Henry, '_Who drew Priam's curtains in the
dead of night, and would have told him half his Troy was burnt?_'"

"No, indeed," said both the girls, starin