l foreign substance, it
gradually becomes a white earth, already very beautiful, and fit, with
help of congealing fire, to be made into finest porcelain, and painted
on, and be kept in kings' palaces. But such artificial consistence is
not its best. Leave it still quiet, to follow its own instinct of unity,
and it becomes, not only white but clear; not only clear, but hard; nor
only clear and hard, but so set that it can deal with light in a
wonderful way, and gather out of it the loveliest blue rays only,
refusing the rest. We call it then a sapphire.
'Such being the consummation of the clay, we give similar permission of
quiet to the sand. It also becomes, first, a white earth; then proceeds
to grow clear and hard, and at last arranges itself in mysterious,
infinitely fine parallel lines, which have the power of reflecting, not
merely the blue rays, but the blue, green, purple, and red rays, in the
greatest beauty in which they can be seen through any hard material
whatsoever. We call it then an opal.
'In next order the soot sets to work. It cannot make itself white at
first; but, instead of being discouraged, tries harder and harder; and
comes out clear at last; and the hardest thing in the world: and for
the blackness that it had, obtains in exchange the power of reflecting
all the rays of the sun at once, in the vividest blaze that any solid
thing can shoot. We call it then a diamond.
'Last of all, the water purifies, or unites itself; contented enough if
it only reach the form of a dewdrop: but, if we insist on its proceeding
to a more perfect consistence, it crystallises into the shape of a star.
And, for the ounce of slime which we had by political economy of
competition, we have, by political economy of co-operation, a sapphire,
an opal, and a diamond, set in the midst of a star of snow.'
* * * * *
L. I have asked you to hear that, children, because, from all that we
have seen in the work and play of these past days, I would have you gain
at least one grave and enduring thought. The seeming trouble,--the
unquestionable degradation,--of the elements of the physical earth, must
passively wait the appointed time of their repose, or their restoration.
It can only be brought about for them by the agency of external law. But
if, indeed, there be a nobler life in us than in these strangely moving
atoms;--if, indeed, there is an eternal difference between the fire
which inhabits
|