ric
was there. Suddenly the sky, which in the morning had been dark and
cloudy, was lit up as if by the blaze of a immense conflagration. The
aurora-borealis, that wonderful phenomenon of the north, glittered in the
horizon, and gradually extended its evolutions from the east to the west.
Sometimes all the colors of the rainbow were visible, and again it
glittered like a mass of fusees, or transformed itself into a vast white
cloud, sparkling like the milky-way. Again it would assume the most
splendid blaze, and appear like a mantle of purple and gold. For one
moment the rays would be alligned, and gradually disappear in the
distance; then they would cross each other like network. Again they would
arrange themselves in bows, dart out with arrowing points, shoot into
towers and form crowns. It might have been fancied the creation of a
kaleidescope, into which the hand of a magician had cast jets of life,
oscillating and floating under every form. At the same time, there was
heard in the air a sound like that accompanying the discharge of
fireworks.

Eric, who had been asked to give an explanation of this phenomenon,
analyzed the various theories of philosophers on the subject. He
especially referred to those of the Society of Copenhagen. He said this
was one of the phenomena which no philosopher had as yet explained; that
of all the hypotheses on the matter, the most specious was that which
ascribes the aurora-borealis to the reflection of the northern ices.

"My wise daughter, what do you think of it?" said M. Vermondans, speaking
to Ebba, who, with her hands crossed over her chest with religious
silence, sat looking at a phenomenon she had witnessed every winter,
and which on every occasion awakened a new emotion.

Ebba said, "I do not know the dissertations of academies, like Eric.
Since, however, they do not explain the cause and motion of the aurora
borealis, I had rather rely on the simple and religious traditions of an
ignorant people, to that of the Greenlanders, who say that the rays of
the aurora come from the glare of souls which wander over the skies."

"On my soul," said M. Vermondans, "that idea pleases me. Like the
problems of the natural philosophers, it does not explain the problem of
the aurora-borealis, but it is much more poetical. This tradition
contributes to the assistance of an idea I advanced the other day, on the
vanity of scientific speculations, especially when we compare them with
the del