Over the brows that mark the intellectual front of that due form, there fall the auburn locks of youth, or the grey hair of venerable age. Each of those hairs is curiously organised. If you take a branch of a tree, and cut it across, you will find curious markings caused by vessels of various structure, all necessary to the existence of the plant. In the centre will be found either a hollow tube, or a space occupied by a soft substance called pith. Each hair of your head is as curiously formed as the branch of a tree, and in a manner not dissimilar, though its parts are so minute that the unaided eye cannot discern them. Every hair has a root, just as a tree has, and through this root it receives its nourishment. As the vessel which feed a plant are always proportionate to the size of the plant itself, how fine must be those vessels which form the roots of the hair, being in proportion to the size of the hair, which is in itself so small that the eye cannot see its structure? The hair is, in fact, an animal plant, growing upon the body in much the same manner that plants grow upon the surface of the earth. But how does this hair grow? Not alone by the addition of matter at its roots, pushing up and elongating its stem: nourishment passes up through its whole length, and is deposited upon its end, just as the nourishment of a tree is deposited upon its extreme branches. If, after having your hair cut, you were to examine its ends by the microscope, you would discover the abrupt termination left by the scissors. But allow the hair to grow, and then examine it, and you will discover that it grows from its point which, in comparison with its former state, is perfect and fine. The reason why the beard is so hard is, that the ends of the hair are continually being shaved off. The hair of the beard, if allowed to grow, would become almost as soft as the hair of the head. [Verse: "The very hairs of your head are all numbered."--MATTHEW XI.]