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 Times Magic Lanthern. CApril Galileo. I am well acquainted with the Scriptures ; but as I do not sup- pose they were meant to instruct man- kind in astronomy, I think there is no sacrilege in attempting to discover more of the nature of the universe than what is revealed in them. Monk. So you believe yourself ca- pable of succeeding in the attempt ? Galileo. Perhaps I do. Monk. Would not your time be better employed, my son, in perusing some rational book of devotion ? Do not allow yourself to be led away by the idle suggestions of self-conceit. What is there to be seen about you, which should enable you to penetrate farther into the secrets of the universe than me or the rest of mankind ? I do not ask this question with a view to wound your pride, but with a sincere wish for your good. Galileo. Upon my word, you are too kind to me. Pray, father, is there any book of devotion which you would re- commend in particular ? Monk. Recommend in particular ! There is a book which it would not become me to but no recom- mend in particular ! Hum I know not. Galileo. Something trembles at your tongue's end. Have you yourself writ- ten any book of devotion ? Monk. Far be it from me to speak of my own writings. Of all books of devotion, my own was the remotest from my thoughts. But since you de- sire to see it Galileo. What are the subjects treat- ed of in it ? Monk. Life, death, and immortali- ty. There is also a treatise upon the habitations of good men after death, and the delights to be found there. Galileo. Your notions concerning these subjects must be in a great measure fanciful. Monk. By no means. Good reasons are given for every tittle that is ad- vanced. Galileo. And where do you suppose the habitations of good men to be ? Monk. Why, in heaven, to be sure. Galileo. Is it not possible that their abode may be situated in some of the constellations ? When gazing, as I was wont to do, at midnight, upon Arc- turus, or the brilliant orbs of Orion, I have sometimes thought, that in the blue depths there might exist worlds suitable for the habitation of an im- mortal spirit. Monk. My son, my son, beware of futile conjectures! You know not upon what ground you are treading. Galileo. Does not the galaxy shed forth a glorious light ? - How gorgeous is its throng of constellations ! To me it seems like a procession of innu- merable worlds, passing in review be- fore their Creator. Monk. If the galaxy moves, why may not the sun ? Galileo. My judgment is, that. they may both move, for aught I know, although at a very slow pace. Monk. Now you speak sense. I knew I should bring you round ; for, to say the truth (and I say it between you and me), if it had not been for my enemies, whom Heaven pardon, I should have been wearing a red hat before now. Good night : and I shall immediately bring the book, which will help to put your thoughts in a proper train again. No III. Rembrandt's Work-shop. Rembrandt solus. Too much light here still. I must deepen the shad- ows even more, until the figures begin to shine out as they ought. And now for Pharoah's Baker, whose dream is not yet interpreted ; so that he looks up earnestly in the face of Joseph, and receives a strong gleam through the iron bars. So and again so. Now for the shadows again. To talk to me of Guido, with his shallow, gray, and trivial open-lights ! Ah ha ! 'tis I who am Rembrandt and there is no other. (a knock at the door.} Heaven send a purchaser ! Come in. Dutch Trader. Good morrow, friend. I wish to have a picture of yours to leave to my wife, before I go to sail the salt seas again. Item. Would you have your own face painted? Trader. My face has seen both fair and foul, in its time, and belike it may not do for a canvass, for I am no fresh water pippin-cheek. Rem. Bear a good heart. Your face is of the kind I like. There is no room for tricks of the pencil upon too smooth a skin. Trader, By this hand, I know no