Again, they seem to come from the zenith of the universe, and, after doubling their perihelion about the sun, reascend far above human vision. Others, again, seem to be dashing through the solar system in every conceivable direction, apparently in an undisturbed path; others are known, however, to obey laws like those which regulate planets. Nothing is known with certainty as to the composition of these bodies, although it is certain they contain very little matter, for they produce little or no effect on the motions of planets when passing near those bodies. Upon what errands they come, what regions they visit when they pass from view, what is the difference between them, the sun, and planets, and what is their mission in the economy of the universe, are questions often pondered over, but the solution of which is beyond the limited powers of human understanding. [Illustration] MRS. MURDEN'S TWO DOLLAR SILK. BY THE AUTHOR OF "MISS BREMER'S VISIT TO COOPER'S LANDING," "GETTING INTO SOCIETY," "MUSTARD TO MIX," ETC. ETC. "ISN'T it perfect?" said young Mrs. Murden, drawing her husband towards a shop window as she herself made a halt in front of it. "I think it is the loveliest shade I ever saw, and that satin stripe gives it such an air so perfectly genteel!" "What?" asked Mr. Murden, simply, roused from his calculation of percentage on certain articles just consigned to him. "It" was certainly an indefinite pronoun, with all that display of elegant silks, ribbons, laces, and embroideries, so skilfully arranged to attract the promenaders of Chestnut Street. "Why, that silk. I've stopped to look at it twice this week." "That blue and red plaid? Yes, it is very handsome; just the pattern of your woollen shawl, isn't it?" "Plaids!" exclaimed Mrs. Murden, contemptuously. "Why, that's only a dollar silk; besides, everybody wears plaids--they're _so common_!" "Then a thing is not pretty when it's common?" "Why, of course not. I heard Mrs. George Barker say yesterday that no real lady wore such gay colors on the street; that, in Paris, plain colors are all the rage. I mean that rich purple, with the thick satin stripe. It's perfect." Young Mrs. Murden had thought the plaids the very height of fashion, until she overheard this conversation between Mrs. George Barker and her mother. Who should know what was stylish, if Mrs. George Barker did not, when she lived in a house with a marble front, had a coachman in livery, and the family arms, done in the best manner, on the panel of her crimson lined carriage? People said she had made a mistake in the last, however; that the stately swan of the crest should have been a tailor's goose. But, then, these were people who had no carriage of their own, and were obliged to patronize omnibuses. No doubt, if they could have afforded it, the paternal awl and lapstone would have been transposed into a dagger and shield, in a similar manner; so their opinion is no manner of consequence.