"All are but parts of one stupendous whole,"
All sentient things the body,—man the regal soul!
No telescope has yet enabled man to count the rounds in the ladder of luminous worlds; no microscope reveals the mysteries imbedded in a grain of wheat. Still he may count them, if he will; may delve into their secrets if he shall so elect; yea, if he will but listen to the fine voice speaking up from his inmost deeps, he may learn somewhat of the
Story of a Monad.
"Up, up, up, there in the steep and silent heaven there shines a radiant sun, more glorious than even a seraph might tell. Its essence is not matter, but spirit; and from its surface there go forth three kinds of light; the one in rays, another in waves. Condensed, the former becomes matter, and the latter is the ocean in which it is upborne,—in which the worlds are floating, and in which all things have a being. Aye! all things ride upon the billows of this infinite sea, even as a shallop or an egg-shell sails upon the tiny wavelets of a lake. The third substance given off from this great sun goes forth in corruscations. The first kind of light proceeds from the surface, the second from the interior, the third from the very heart of this infinite center,—or from God's body, His spirit, and His soul. The first is pure fire, the second pure life, the third is the sea of monads. Every scintilla of that which proceeds from the soul of this sun (like that which proceeds from a human brain
