deeper in their tones of violet, more solid, more easily discernible among the faint mists in which the dawn had vested them, and from which they now began to separate themselves, while out of the vaporous films of the sky long trails and volumes of cloud were beginning to condense. Emerald was now passing into topaz, and the rolling masses of distance seemed every moment a shallower, greener blue. For the oldest and most primeval of all colours is blue--that vast, profound sapphire of midnight. But as darkness dies before the advance of dawn, each colour recedes westward as its successor presses hard upon it out of the East. Blue gives place insensibly to green--to green, faint at first and tremulous, then growing swiftly more sharp to its note of greatest pungency. And so, when the lucence of emerald is at its height, it rises abruptly into yellow--a yellow very pure and thin, and coldly pale. Blue has faded out altogether. The air has the vivid transparency of a topaz. Quickly the clear light intensifies itself, and passes on into richer, angrier tones of saffron and flame. Then, last of all, crimson and scarlet appear, final heralds of the approaching day. Already, very far up in the shrill green of the zenith, a few feathered clouds were growing pink. The Ravensber, now, was of a rosy blue, and the sky behind it thrilled with gold. The air rippled cool with increasing keenness, and the awakening earth seemed to await an imminent summons. Gradually the details of the earth below could be discerned in blocks of uncertain light and shadow. It seemed as if the day were pausing on its road. The golden east grew increasingly golden, and the green overhead grew pale and melted; but to eyes that had watched the swift advance of the earlier stages this tantalizing moment of suspense seemed interminable. The world now was purple and azure; the Ravensber stood out no longer the phantom of a dream. Life was growing plain and plainer. But still the poignant moment hovered indecisively on its way. The path of the sun was barred with streaks of cloud. Ashen grey and violet in the beginning, they had kindled at last through wine colour to an ardent amethyst, and their lower surfaces were edged with rose. As their fluffy masses mounted the sky, their surfaces grew brighter, their purple warmer, till, high overhead, their last faint drifts were now of a uniform glowing pink. Everything was ready for the sun: the earth was clean and fresh from its sleep, the air was vivid and clean and sparkling.