From these experiments it follows that the colours with which all natural substances are clothed, ought not to be looked upon as belonging to them absolutely, but only as a property dependent on the reflection and absorption of light from their surfaces. The leaves of plants, for instance, must not be regarded as being really green in themselves, but as being capable of absorbing certain portions of light, and reflecting others. Grown in the dark, the green substance contained in the plant and its leaves becomes white, and no longer possesses the property of absorbing red light, and reflecting green. A green leaf placed in red light becomes almost black, from its power of absorbing light of that colour; in the blue it reflects a much greater proportion of the coloured ray. A very striking experiment may be performed with a substance known to chemists as the iodide of mercury. If a little of this salt, which is of a brilliant red, be placed in a watch-glass, and heated over a spirit-lamp, it will gradually sublime, and a card held over it will be covered with a number of light yellow crystals. In this case no change of composition has taken place, but simply a change in the power the salt possesses of reflecting some rays and absorbing others. By simply scratching the surface of the card with a pointed piece of wood, the yellow crystals become transformed once more into the red variety; not only this, the transformation gradually spreads, like a red cloud, over the whole of the deposit. There are some other salts known to chemists which possess the property of dichroism, or double colour. The double cyanide of platinum and barium, for instance, appears violet when viewed in one direction, and yellow in another. Change of temperature is often sufficient to change the colour of bodies—white oxide of zinc, for example, becomes bright yellow when heated. Such instances might be supplied _ad infinitum_, but enough has been said to prove that colour, after all, is only an appearance, and not an essential property of bodies. We have already spoken of complementary colours, or those which it is necessary to add together in order to produce white light. Blue, for instance, is complementary to orange, red to green, violet to yellow, and _vice versa_. But it is not by the aid of the palette that this can be proved, for in the case of coloured pigments the arrangement of their atoms interferes in some way with the success of the experiment, and it is only by means of the colours of the spectrum that such recompositions can be effected. Although most philosophers consider that there are seven colours in the spectrum, there are others who do not admit it, but assert that there are really only three, red, yellow and blue—which by the superposition of their edges produce the intermediate hues of green and orange. Perhaps it would be nearer to the truth to say that the spectrum is composed of an infinite number of colours of different hues.