February 11

The foundations of the wall of the city were garnished with all manner of precious stones. The first foundation was jasper; the second, sapphire; the third, a chalcedony; the fourth, an emerald; the fifth, sardonyx; the sixth, sardius; the seventh, chrysolite; the eighth, beryl; the ninth, a topaz; the tenth, a chrysoprasus; the eleventh, a jacinth; the twelfth, an amethyst.

WE want to know them all,—yes; if we can be worthy. But it is hard reading, some of it. . . . If we had our way we should build a low, poor wall, of but one stone perhaps. See! this crimson that lies at the beginning,—it is the colour of passion, suffering. Out of the crimson we climb into the blue,—that is truth and calm. Beyond is the white, glistening chalcedony, for purity; and next, flashes out the green,—the hope of glory. Then they mingle and alternate,—the tenderness and the pain and the purifying; it is the veined sardonyx stands for that, the life-story.

The blood-red sard is the sixth stone,—the whole triumphant love that contains and overwhelms all passion; the blessedness intense with its included anguish. It is the middle band; the supreme and central type; crowning the human, underlying the heavenly. Then the tints grow clear and spiritual; chrysolite, golden-green, touched with a glory manifest; the blending of a rarer and serener blue,—the wonderful, sea-pure beryl. Then, the sun-filled rapture of the topaz; and chrysoprase where flame and azure find each other,—the joy of the Lord, and the peace that passeth understanding. In the end, the jacinth purple and pure amethyst into which the rainbow refines itself at last, hinting at the far distance of ineffable things.—For it is the story of the rainbow too.

ADELINE D. T. WHITNEY

THROUGH PAIN TO JOY