"Yes; for the invisible things of Him, from the creation of the world, are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made.””

"But do you mean to say, Miss Vaughan, that nothing in the world is ever destroyed? For instance, are not coals and candles destroyed when they are burnt out?"

"No, certainly not; they are no more destroyed than plants are when they die. The elements of the coals and candles are not consumed; they are only decomposed, and remain still in the room."

"But how can that be proved?"

"It can be proved very easily by the science of chemistry. All the materials, that is to say, the gases of which the coals and candles were composed-the hydrogen, the carbon, and the oxygen gas-can be collected together again; and then, what appears still more strange, it will be found that their united weight has increased, instead of diminished, by the process of burning. But we must study a little chemistry together, before you can fully understand that part of the subject."

"Well!" exclaimed Mary, "since nothing can be destroyed, I should like very much to know what has become of all the acorns that we used to find strewed about this avenue in the autumn. Don't you remember, Fanny, what numbers we used to pick up?"

"Yes; I suppose they have rotted into the ground like the leaves."

"I should hardly think so," replied Miss Vaughan, "because, unlike leaves, they have an inner life, which keeps them from decaying: they are intended to be pre

served alive a long while, and are therefore encased in strong durable shells. Seeds seldom rot; seldom, at least, under a very long time."

"What do you think, then, has become of them?" said Mary.

"I dare say the poor people collected as many as they could for their pigs and poultry to fatten upon; and what they left supplied food for hundreds of birds; rooks especially, many of whom bury them in the ground for a winter store; and in this way I have no doubt that thousands of oaks and other trees are planted."

"What clever birds!" exclaimed Fanny; "they forget, I suppose, to come back to their store-house, or perhaps planted more than they could eat.”

"Then I suppose," said Dora, "it is this inner life that you were speaking of that has preserved the Mummy Wheat so many years. When I first heard that some of that wheat had been planted, and actually come up, I could not believe it to be true."

"It is perfectly true, Dora, though very, very wonderful. Mr. M. F. Tupper was, I believe, the first who succeeded in rearing some of this wheat; and it proved to be of a very superior quality: not only wheat, but peas also, which had been hermetically sealed up in those mysterious cases for thousands of years, have been lately reared; they were green all the year round. This is one of the most astonishing instances of the power of the vital principle, the inner life, as I first called it. But I could give you many more. There is a plant called Vitis Argonista, which will grow after its roots have been immersed in boiling water: and even peas

and beans have been known to grow after boiling. And is it not equally wonderful that Snow-drops should expand their blossoms beneath a casement of ice, as they are known to do? And that Sea-weed will produce its brilliant green hue at the bottom of the ocean, where neither light nor heat can act upon it? I could tell you a tale of an Eldertree, that would very much tax your powers of faith I fear: I do not tell it to every one, for I believe that those who are unacquainted with nature, would question the probability of it."

"O do tell us, if you please," said Dora; "indeed we can believe anything after the Mummy Wheat."

"You may, believe, my dear, that I will never tell you anything as a fact, that I am not quite convinced of myself. This instance did not come under my own personal knowledge, but I had it on such very good authority, that I cannot doubt its being quite true. Some Elderberries, from which wine had been made, and which were of course mashed and squeezed, and also strained under the operation, were planted by way of experiment, in a gentleman's garden, in the neighbourhood of Matlock. Out of a great many seeds, two or three came up, but only one lived. This one grew up a hardy flourishing tree. hardy flourishing tree. But the most incredible part of my story is yet to come. It happened that a stack of hay was placed for support against this tree: one day the stack took fire, and was burnt to the ground; the tree was scorched to the very roots; its owner, whose father had planted it, was much vexed at the circumstance; but finding it so much injured he was compelled to cut it down, and the small bit of stump that remained was made to form

part of a gate: when behold, after several months the gatepost began to grow, and put forth leaves and branches! and I am told that this curiosity is existing still.”

"Well that tree certainly had a charmed life; but, Miss Vaughan, don't you think it just possible that the berry from which it grew managed somehow or other to escape squeezing among all the rest, so that its inner life was not affected?"

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No, I am sure that every berry that was planted was broken and bruised, as the thing was done purposely for the sake of experiment: but I think it likely that this berry happened to be less bruised than the rest: something must have remained within it, for we are sure that there could be no vitality existing in the skin only. But here we are now at home; and I must reserve what else I had to say on the subject for a future walk."

“What a pleasant one we have had to-day," observed Mary.

“Yes, we have quite enjoyed it,” replied Dora, who appeared to have forgotten her miserable sensations on starting.

CHAPTER III.

THOU art, O God, the life and light
Of all this wondrous world we see ;
Its glow by day, its smile by night,
Are but reflections caught from Thee!
Where 'er we turn Thy glories shine,
And all things fair and bright are Thine.

MOORE.

"WELL, Miss Vaughan," began Fanny the next morning, "do you know I told papa the story about the Elder-tree, for I could not help it: but I made him promise first of all that he would believe what I was going to tell him."

"But that was rather unreasonable, Fanny."

"Yes, so he said; but I told him that it must be true, because you said so; and you knew all about it. And then he said he would try to believe it, if you said so. And when I told him the story, what do you think he said? Instead of being very much astonished, he said he could believe it very easily; and then he told me another story, about some apple pips. He said that one day when he was a very little boy, he took four pips of a roasted apple and planted them in his own garden, expecting to have four Apple-trees; and sure enough one out of the four came up, and grew into a tree. Every one thought it very wonderful; and so should I if you had not told me about the Eldertree, and the Peas and Beans, and the Mummy Wheat."

"The force of the vital principle," replied Miss Vaughan, "is indeed wonderful: it is a self-existing principle; it can