This is not the place to elaborate the subject, or to show the progression of the natural scale as produced by further subdivisions of the string. Suffice it to say that the remaining notes of the common diatonic scale are _selected_ (with some slight modifications) from sounds thus produced. This scale cannot then be considered, in all its parts, as the fundamental, natural one. Nature permits to man a great variety of thought and action, provided always he does not too far infringe her organic laws. She may allow opposing forces to result in small perturbations, but fundamental principles and their legitimate consequences must remain intact. No one can ponder upon the above-mentioned harmonic foundation of the musical scale without conceiving a new idea of the beauty and significance of that glorious art and science which may be proved to be based upon laws decreed by the Almighty himself. The one consideration that, in all probability, no single musical sound comes to us alone, but each one is accompanied by its choir of ascending harmonic sequences, is sufficient to afford matter for many a wholesome and delightful meditation. Instead, then, of regarding our earthly music as a purely human invention, we may look upon it as a genuine gift from heaven, a _legitimate_ forerunner of the exalted strains one day to be heard in the heavenly Jerusalem. The laws of vibrations producing sound, of undulations giving rise to light and color, of oscillations resulting in heat, the movements of the heavenly bodies, the flow of electric and magnetic currents, the rhythmical beat of the pulse, the unceasing march of mind and human events, all lead us to the consideration of _motion_ as one of the greatest of secondary causes in the guidance of the universe. Do we not, indeed, find the same element in the Divine Trinity of the Godhead, in the eternal generation of the Son, and the procession of the Holy Spirit? THOUGHT. The stars move calm within the brow of night: No sea of molten flame therein is pent, Nor meteors, from that burning chaos, blent, Shoot from their orbits in a maddening flight. But in the brain is clasped a flood of light, Whose seething fires can find no form, nor vent, And pour, through the strained eyeballs, glances, rent From suffering worlds within, hidden from sight And laboring for birth. This chaos deep Touch thou, O Thought! and crystallize to form, Resolve to order its wild lightning storm Of meteor dreams! that into life shall leap At thy command, and move before thy face In starry majesty, and awful grace. THE WAR A CONTEST FOR IDEAS.