e to prepare the most
beautiful substance in nature, next to the diamond--crystalized
quartz--for the purposes of art. Yet quartz has a power of refraction
equal to 74! Could John Pollexfen sleep quietly in his bed whilst such
an outrage was being perpetrated daily against God and His universe? No!
Lucile; never! Yon snowy hills conceal in their bosoms treasures far
richer than the sheen of gold. With a single blast I tore away a ton of
crystal. How I cut and polished it is my secret, not the world's. The
result crowds my gallery daily, whilst theirs are half deserted."

"And are you not satisfied with your success?" demanded the girl, whose
own eye began to dilate, and gleam, as it caught the kindred spark of
enthusiasm from the flaming orbs of Pollexfen.

"Satisfied!" cried he; "satisfied! Not until my _camera_ flashes back
the silver sheen of the planets, and the golden twinkle of the stars.
Not until earth and all her daughters can behold themselves in yon
mirror, clad in their radiant robes. Not until each hue of the rainbow,
each tint of the flower, and the fitful glow of roseate beauty,
changeful as the tinge of summer sunsets, have all been captured,
copied, and embalmed forever by the triumphs of the human mind! Least of
all, could I be satisfied now at the very advent of a nobler era in my
art."

"And do you really believe," inquired Lucile, "that color can be
photographed as faithfully as light and shade?"

"Believe, girl? _I know it._ Does not your own beautiful eye print upon
its retina tints, dyes and hues innumerable? And what is the eye but a
lens? God was the first photographer. Give me but a living, sentient,
perfect human eye to dissect and analyze, and I swear by the holy book
of science that I will detect the secret, though hidden deep down in the
primal particles of matter."

"And why a human eye? Why not an eagle's or a lion's?"

"A question I once propounded to myself, and never rested till it was
solved," replied Pollexfen. "Go into my parlor, and ask my pets if I
have not been diligent, faithful, and honest. I have tested every eye
but the human. From the dull shark's to the imperial condor's, I have
tried them all. Months elapsed ere I discovered the error in my
reasoning. Finally, a little boy explained it all. 'Mother,' said a
child, in my hearing, 'when the pigeons mate, do they choose the
prettiest birds?' 'No,' said his mother. 'And why not?' pursued the boy.
Because, responded I,