known, that we could actually see, and those of which the true surfaces
were believed to be concealed from us. "I have told you," answered the
man of science, "that they are the Moon, Mars and the Sun. Both
Venus and Mercury are nearer to us than Mars, but their relative
proximities to the sun have some such effect on their surfaces, as placing
an object near a strong light is known to have on its appearance. We
are dazzled, to speak popularly, and cannot distinguish minutely. With
Mars it is different. If this planet has any atmosphere at all, it is one of
no great density, and its orbit being without our own, we can easily
trace on its surface the outlines of seas and continents. It is even
supposed that the tinge of the latter is that of reddish sand-stone, like
much of that known in our own world, but more decided in tint, while
two brilliant white spots, at its poles, are thought to be light reflected
from the snows of those regions, rendered more conspicuous, or
disappearing, as they first emerge from a twelvemonths' winter, or melt
in a summer of equal duration."

I could have listened forever to this astronomer, whose lectures so
profoundly taught lessons of humility to the created, and which were so
replete with silent eulogies on the power of the Creator! What was it to
me whether I were a modest plant, of half a cubit in stature, or the
proudest oak of the forest--man or vegetable? My duty was clearly to
glorify the dread Being who had produced all these marvels, and to fulfil
my time in worship, praise and contentment. It mattered not whether my
impressions were derived through organs called ears, and were
communicated by others called those of speech, or whether each
function was performed by means of sensations and agencies too subtle
to be detected by ordinary means. It was enough for me that I heard
and understood, and felt the goodness and glory of God. I may say that
my first great lessons in true philosophy were obtained in these lectures,