'After the Professors of the Sun were silenced, the Man in the Moon arose and spoke. He contended that both Sun and Moon were free from spots, but said, that no one could see the Sun as it really was, unless he _lived_ in the Moon, and looked at it from his standpoint. 'The Moon,' said he, 'like the Sun, is the work of the All-perfect Creator; and its face is one unchanging blaze of absolute and unvaried brightness.' 'Now all who had ever looked at the Moon, had noticed, that no part of her face was as bright as the Sun, and that some portions were of a shade considerably darker than the rest. And I noticed that even the Professors who had spoken extravagantly about the Sun, looked at each other and smiled, when they heard the statements of the Man in the Moon. Indeed there was such a tittering and a giggling through the Hall, that the meeting was broken up. 'I hastened out, and found there were a hundred discussions going on in the street. Many of the disputants seemed greatly excited. I felt melancholy. A quiet-looking man, with a very gentle expression of countenance, came up to me, and in tones of remarkable sweetness, said, 'You seem moved.' 'I feel troubled,' said I. 'I don't know what to think; and I don't know what to do.' He smiled, and said, 'None of these things move me.' Then lifting up his eyes towards Heaven he said,--'The Sun still shines; and I feel his blessed warmth as sensibly as ever. And the millions of our race still live and rejoice in his beams.' 'Thank God,' said I: 'Yes, I see, he still shines; and I will rest contented with his light and warmth.' 'The spots are there,' said he, 'past doubt; but experience, the strongest evidence of all, proves that they do not interfere with the beneficent influences of the Great and Glorious Orb, or lessen his claims to our respect and veneration, or diminish one jot our obligations to his great Author. They have their use, no doubt. The Sun might be too brilliant without them, and destroy our eyes, instead of giving us light. Too much light might prove as bad as too little. All is well. I accept plain facts. To deny them is to fight against God. To admit them and trust in God is the true faith, and the germ of all true virtue and piety. ''I have no faith in the kind of absolute perfection those professors contend for, either in Sun or Moon, Bible or Church; but I believe in the SUFFICIENCY, or _practical_ perfection of all, and am as happy, and only wish I were as good and useful, as ----' 'Just as he spoke those words, I awoke. He seemed as if he had much to say, and I would fain have heard him talk his sweet talk till now; but perhaps I had heard enough, and ought now to set myself heartily to work, to get through with the business of my life.' So ends the Dream-story.