we call
colors are not colors in themselves at all, but simply a different
number of vibrations. Color is all in the eye. Violet has in
different places from 716 to 765,000,000,000,000 of vibrations per
second; red has, in different places, from 396 to
470,000,000,000,000 vibrations per second. None of these in any
sense are color, but affect the eye differently, and we call these
different effects color. They are simply various velocities of
vibration. An object, like one kind of stripe in our flag, which
absorbs all kinds of vibrations except those between 396 and
470,000,000,000,000, and reflects those, appears red to us. The
field for the stars absorbs and destroys all but those vibrations
numbering about 653,000,000,000,000 of [Page 25] vibrations per
second. A color is a constant creation. Light makes momentary color
in the flag. Drake might have written, in the continuous present as
well as in the past,

"Freedom mingles with its gorgeous dyes
The milky baldrick of the skies,
And stripes its pore celestial white
With streakings of the morning light."

Every little pansy, tender as fancy, pearled with evanescent dew,
fresh as a new creation of sunbeams, has power to suppress in one
part of its petals all vibrations we call red, in another those
we call yellow, and purple, and reflect each of these in other
parts of the same tender petal. "Pansies are for thoughts," even
more thoughts than poor Ophelia knew. An evening cloud that is
dense enough to absorb all the faster and weaker vibrations, leaving
only the stronger to come through, will be said to be red; because
the vibrations that produce the impression we have so named are
the only ones that have vigor enough to get through. It is like an
army charging upon a fortress. Under the deadly fire and fearful
obstructions six-sevenths go down, but one-seventh comes through
with the glory of victory upon its face.

Light comes in undulations to the eye, as tones of sound to the
ear. Must not light also sing? The lowest tone we can hear is made
by 16.5 vibrations of air per second; the highest, so shrill and
"fine that nothing lives 'twixt it and silence," is made by 38,000
vibrations per second. Between these extremes lie eleven octaves;
C of the G clef having 258-7/8 vibrations to the second, and its
octave above 517-1/2. Not that sound vibrations cease [Page 27] at
38,000, but our organs are not fitted to hear beyond those
limitations. If our ears wer