It is evident, then, that all the various assemblages of colours which we see in the objects around us, _are not in the bodies themselves_, but in the light which falls upon them. There is no colour _inherent_ in the grass, the trees, the fruits, and the flowers, nor even in the most splendid and variegated dress that adorns a lady. All such objects are as destitute of colour, in themselves, as bodies which are placed in the centre of the earth, or as the chaotic materials out of which our globe was formed, before light was created. For where there is no light, there is no colour. Every object is black, or without colour, in the dark, and it only appears coloured as soon as light renders it visible. This is further evident from the following experiment. If we place a coloured body in one of the colours of the spectrum which is formed by the prism, it appears of the colour of the rays in which it is placed. Take, for example, a red rose, and expose it first to the red rays, and it will appear of a more brilliant ruddy hue. Hold it in the blue rays, and it appears no longer red, but of a dingy blue colour, and in like manner its colour will appear different, when placed in all the other differently coloured rays. This is the reason why the colours of objects are essentially altered by the nature of the light in which they are seen. The colours of ribbons and various pieces of silk or woollen stuff are not the same when viewed by candle-light as in the day time. In the light of a candle or a lamp, blue often appears green, and yellow objects assume a whitish aspect. The reason is that the light of a candle is not so pure a white as that of the sun, but has a yellowish tinge, and therefore, when refracted by the prism, the yellowish rays are found to predominate, and the superabundance of yellow rays gives to blue objects a greenish hue. The doctrine we are now illustrating is one which a great many persons, especially among the fair sex, find it difficult to admit. They cannot conceive it possible that there is no colour really inherent in their splendid attire, and no tints of beauty in their countenances. ‘What,’ said a certain lady, ‘are there no colours in my shawl, and in the ribbons that adorn my head-dress--and, are we all as black as negroes in the dark; I should almost shudder to think of it.’ Such persons, however, need be in no alarm at the idea; but may console themselves with the reflection, that, when they are stripped of all their coloured ornaments in the dark, they are certain that _they will never be seen by any one_ in that state; and therefore, there is no reason to regret the temporary loss of those beauties which light creates--when they themselves and all surrounding objects are _invisible_. But, to give a still more palpable proof of this position, the following popular experiments may be stated.