very leaf, every
blade of grass. He lives, He feels, He loves, He suffers, He does good
by means of all these. Oh, Monsieur Hennetius, you are right not to pain
the Lord, who loves us so much!'

"Never in my life had I been so moved and affected, and it was a full
minute before I could ask her--

"'So, my dear child, you see by your bees; will you explain to me how
that is?'

"'I cannot tell, Monsieur Hennetius; it may be because I am so fond of
them. When I was quite a little child they adopted me, and they have
never once hurt me. At first I liked to sit for hours in the apiary all
alone and listen to their humming for hours together. I could see nothing
then, everything was dark to me; but insensibly light came upon me. At
first I could see the sun a little, when it was very hot, then a little
more, with the wild vine and the honeysuckle like a shade over me, then
the full light of day. I began to emerge from myself; my spirit went
forth with the bees. I could see the mountains, the rocks, the lake, the
flowers and mosses, and in the evening, when quite alone, I reflected on
these things. I thought how beautiful they were, and when people talked
of this and that, of whortleberries, and mulberries, and heaths, I said
to myself, "I know what all these things are like--they are black, or
brown, or green." I could see them in my mind, and every day I became
better acquainted with them, thanks to my dear bees; and therefore I love
them dearly, Monsieur Hennetius. If you knew how it grieves me when the
time comes for robbing them of their wax and their honey!'

"'I believe you, my child--I believe it does.'

"My delight at this wonderful discovery was boundless.

"Two days longer Raesel entertained me with a description of her
impressions. She was acquainted with every flower, every Alpine plant,
and gave me an account of a great number which have as yet received
no botanical names, and which are probably only to be found in
inaccessible situations.

"The poor girl was often much affected when she spoke of her dear
friends, some little flowers.

"'Often and often,' said she, 'I have talked for hours with the golden
broom or the tender blue-eyed forget-me-not, and shared in their
troubles. They all wished to quit the earth and fly about; they all
complained of their being condemned to dry up in the ground, and of being
exposed to wait for days and weeks ere a drop of dew came to refresh
them.'

"And so Raesel us