ade me doubly a boy then; in my eagerness to put myself to school, on
the one hand, and my desire to see something new on the other. Miss
Powle, have you ever studied the invisible inhabitants of pools, and
ponds, and sea-weeds?"

"Not at all," said Eleanor.

"You do not know much more than the names, then, of Infusoria,
Rotifera, and Pedunculata, and such things?"

"Not so much as the names--except Infusoria. I hope they are better
than they sound."

"If the accounts are true--Mrs. Caxton, the world that we do not see,
because of the imperfection of our organs, is even far more wonderful
than the world that we do see. Perhaps it seems so, because of the
finiteness of our own powers. But I never had a single thing give me
such a view of the infinite glory of God, as one of the things detailed
in that book--one of the discoveries of the microscope."

"His glory in creation," said Mrs. Caxton.

"More than that--There is to be sure the infiniteness of wisdom and of
power, that makes your brain dizzy when you think of it; but there is
an infinite moral glory also."

"What was the thing that struck you so much?" Eleanor inquired.

"It was a little fellow that lives in the water. He is not bigger than
the diameter of the slenderest needle--and that is saying as much as I
can for his size. This fellow builds himself a house of bricks, which
he makes himself; and under his head he carries a little cup mould in
which the bricks are made."

"Mr. Rhys," said Eleanor, "I am wondering what is the slenderest needle
of your acquaintance!"

"No," said he laughing, "you are mistaken. I have seen my mother hem
thin ruffles of muslin; and you know with what sort of a needle that
should be done."

"Aunt Caxton," said Eleanor, "it is inconceivable!"

Mrs. Caxton did not make much answer, and the conversation turned.
After breakfast, and after, as Eleanor judged, they had been a good
while in the dairy, the two went out together in the car. Eleanor
supposed it was to visit Nanny; and so she found when her aunt came
home.

"I knew he would go," said Mrs. Caxton; "and then we made another call.
Nanny is hopeful, and comfortable; but the other---- Mr. Rhys came away
very much agitated. He is not fit for it. I wish I could keep him from
work for a few weeks. It's the best economy. But I will keep him here
as long as I can, at least."

"Is he going to stay here?"

"Yes; he was not comfortably situated in the village; and now I