hich is which; the garnets look like dull red stains on the
crumbling stone. By the way, I never could understand, if St. Gothard is
a real saint, why he can't keep his garnets in better order. These are
all under his care; but I suppose there are too many of them for him to
look after. The streets of Airolo are paved with them.

MAY. Paved with garnets?

L. With mica-slate and garnets; I broke this bit out of a paving stone.
Now garnets and mica are natural friends, and generally fond of each
other; but you see how they quarrel when they are ill brought up. So it
is always. Good crystals are friendly with almost all other good
crystals, however little they chance to see of each other, or however
opposite their habits may be; while wicked crystals quarrel with one
another, though they may be exactly alike in habits, and see each other
continually. And of course the wicked crystals quarrel with the good
ones.

ISABEL. Then do the good ones get angry?

L. No, never: they attend to their own work and life; and live it as
well as they can, though they are always the sufferers. Here, for
instance, is a rock-crystal of the purest race and finest temper, who
was born, unhappily for him, in a bad neighbourhood, near Beaufort in
Savoy; and he has had to fight with vile calcareous mud all his life.
See here, when he was but a child, it came down on him, and nearly
buried him; a weaker crystal would have died in despair; but he only
gathered himself together, like Hercules against the serpents, and threw
a layer of crystal over the clay; conquered it,--imprisoned it,--and
lived on. Then, when he was a little older, came more clay; and poured
itself upon him here, at the side; and he has laid crystal over that,
and lived on, in his purity. Then the clay came on at his angles, and
tried to cover them, and round them away; but upon that he threw out
buttress-crystals at his angles, all as true to his own central line as
chapels round a cathedral apse; and clustered them round the clay; and
conquered it again. At last the clay came on at his summit, and tried to
blunt his summit; but he could not endure that for an instant; and left
his flanks all rough, but pure; and fought the clay at his crest, and
built crest over crest, and peak over peak, till the clay surrendered at
last; and here is his summit, smooth and pure, terminating a pyramid of
alternate clay and crystal, half a foot high!

LILY. Oh, how nice of him! What a dear,