The sun that glared down from the supreme height was like to no other sun they had ever seen. The haze on its disc, to which the Preventive officer had drawn their attention an hour earlier, had been slowly growing in the meantime, until now it was equal to four diameters of the orb itself, and it was so permeated with the rays that it seemed part of the sun itself. There that mighty furnace seethed with intolerable fire, and so singular was the haze that one, glancing for a moment upward with hand on forehead, seemed to see the huge tongues of flame that burst forth now and again as they do beneath a copper cauldron on the furnace of the artificer. But this was not all, for at a considerable distance from the molten mass, which had the sun for its core, there was a wide ring apparently of fire. Though dull as copper for the most part, yet at times there was a glow as of living and not merely reflected flame, at parts of the brazen circle, and flashes seemed to go from the sun to this cincture, conveying the impression of an enormous shield, having the sun as the central boss of shining brass, on which fiery darts were striking, flying off again to the brass binding of the targe. “Another marvel!” said Wesley; “but I have seen the dike more than once before. Once 'twas on the Atlantic, and the master of our ship, who was a mariner of experience, told me that that outer circle was due to the sun shining through particles of moisture. Hold up a candle in the mist and you have the same thing.” “I myself have seen it more than once; 'tis not a marvel, though it has appeared on a day of marvels,” said Hartwell; and forthwith they entered the house. They were both greatly exhausted, the fact being that before setting out for the preaching in the early morning they had taken no more than a glass of milk and a piece of bread, and during the seven hours that had elapsed they had tasted nothing, though the day had been a most exhausting one. In a very few minutes the cold dinner, with the salad, which had been in readiness for their return, found them grateful; and after partaking of it Wesley retired to his room. He threw himself upon a couch that stood under the window; a group of trees, though birch and not very bosky, grew so close to the window that they had made something of a shade to the room since morning, so that it was the coolest in the house. It was probably this sense of coolness that refreshed him so far as to place him within the power of sleep. He had thought it impossible when he entered the house that he should be able to find such a relief, exhausted as he had been. But now he had scarcely put his head on the pillow before he was asleep.